


Legingen

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-20
Updated: 2005-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: The sequel to "Sonata in C MaJor", by SheilaVR and Kate  (Terpsichore).





	Legingen

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Legingen**

**by: Meghan Reilly**

**Character(s):** CJ, Toby, Ensemble  
**Pairing(s):** CJ/Toby  
**Category(s):** Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to Aaron Sorkin, with the exception of Paul Thatcher, who belongs to SheilaVR and Kate. This universe is not mine, got it? So, for the love of Pete, don't sue me. Besides, I know, like, every process server in town, and they'll pretend they couldn't find me.  
**Summary:** The sequel to "Sonata in C MaJor", by SheilaVR and Kate (Terpsichore).  
**Author's Note:** This story is most lovingly dedicated to Sheila and Kate, without whom this universe would never have existed. I can only hope that I've done justice to the powerful tale you told so well. If anyone has not read "Sonata in C MaJor", you need to do so. Now. Not only is it a truly astonishing piece of work, but you won't understand this story at all if you don't read it. You can find it at the Greens  & Blues fanfiction archive.   
*In sincere thanks*: Tons (tonnes) of gratitude aimed at Sheila, for the endless help, support, and encouragement, and for her (yes, yes, I admit it - grumble grumble) good Canadian common sense and the wonderful, makes-me-laugh-every-minute friendship. Also, to Kate - you and Sheila are the best friends I've never met, and you are an extraordinarily strong, talented, beautiful woman to whom I owe a great deal. Irish Ninja Queen, I love you. 

Prologue 

\--- 

Lightning crashed outside and framed the figure of a man. 

He stood in her doorway, arm extended, fingers reaching out to her; she jerked and tried to get up, but something held her down. The man began walking forward. 

Images flashed before her eyes, of snow-covered mountains. Of gentle, terrible hands possessively holding her close, hungrily removing unfamiliar clothes from her body. Of a gun, flashing in the light of a fireplace - blood on a man's shirt, blood she'd spilled - realizations jarring her, the feeling of panic as she pressed her hands to the side of her face and screamed and screamed and screamed - 

The man was coming closer to her, and she scrambled back, trying to evade his large hand. She couldn't feel her legs. The man came nearer, now so close that she could feel his breath hotly on her face as he whispered to her. 

"I'm back now, Claudia. I've got you. You're mine..." 

His ice-cold fingers touched her face, stroking her hair back, and she suddenly felt pain like fire upon her skin. She screamed. 

CJ awoke with a start, sitting straight up, frantically searching the room for the forbidding form she felt sure must be there. A spray of water hit her in the face, and she realized suddenly that she was soaking wet and shivering. She glanced over at her window. 

It was open, the translucent white curtains fluttering wildly in the wind, rain pouring in. 

CJ got out of bed and stood up, her feet touching damp carpet as she made her way over to the window and looked outside. The gray sky of the very early morning cast an eerie glow on her skin, making her appear paler than pale, luminous. 

Harsh bruises stood out, contrasting viciously with the rest of the stark white, flawless expanse. Memory, her newest enemy, assaulted her from all fronts; an apocalypse of visions from her nightmare stung her, scraped against her mind roughly, stabbed her with remembrance. The wounded woman clung weakly to the windowsill as her awareness betrayed her. 

Her body shook wretchedly, no longer from chill; CJ stood grieving, letting her tears mingle with the rain, unnoticed. 

***** 

Author's Note: A single slash ( / ) denotes thought; double slashes ( // ) denotes a flashback. Once again, if you haven't read "Sonata in C MaJor", go no further, 'cause you will be one confused smurf. 

\--- 

Escape to Nowhere 

\--- 

The air in the Oval Office fairly crackled with tension. 

Josiah Bartlet stood leaning against the desk, his face a mask of worry, while Leo, Josh, Toby, and Sam sat fidgeting on the couches in the center of the room. All eyes were on the ornate mantel clock that sat across the room under the portrait of George Washington. 

It was two minutes past seven, and the President's Press Secretary was nowhere to be seen. 

A gnawing fear spread through the minds of all of the men there. This was all too much like a staff meeting less than one week ago, in Leo's office - 

/Where is she?/ 

/This isn't happening. Not again. We just got her back -/ 

Leo spoke first in the silence, his voice low and tense. "Agent Reilly is with her every moment of the day. If something had happened, she would have radioed..." He trailed off, realizing how hollow his assurances sounded. 

They waited some more, in nerve-grinding stillness. 

/She *did* come in to work today, didn't she?/ 

Sam made an effort to lighten the mood, always the optimist. "She's probably just in her office, stuck with something that she has to finish. Everyone knows how easy it is to lose track of time around here; we're getting worked up over nothing." His voice, however, betrayed his nervousness. 

Toby looked over at him slowly, then back down at the carpet. "That's what we said last time," he muttered. 

Bartlet's thoughts chased each other stormily in his head. /I know she's in the West Wing - why isn't she here now? She's safe in the White House, isn't she?/ 

The seconds ticked cruelly past, and the President's distress rose further and further. 

/I should call Ron Butterfield. We wasted these precious minutes last time; we waited too long -/ 

Just then the door connecting Leo's office to the Oval opened and CJ stepped through. "I apologize for being late," she said as she walked over to a chair. "I was on the phone with the assistant to the OMB auditor, and he would *not* let me go." She sat down and straightened her skirt, not realizing that she was the sole object of everyone's attention until she looked up. 

Five pairs of eyes stared back at her, and five bad poker faces betrayed the taut emotions roiling just beneath their surfaces. 

/Dear God, they thought -/ 

She put a hand to her mouth, immediately admonishing herself for her tactlessness. "I'm so sorry, everyone, I didn't mean to worry you -" 

"No, it's all right. Everything's fine," Bartlet assured her quickly, moving to put a hand on her shoulder. She noticed that he kept it there a moment longer than was needed, as if reluctant to let go. 

/My first full day back, and I scare the crap out of them. Great./ 

The tension in the room had abated somewhat, and Leo stood up, anxious to move on. "What's on the table today?" he said lightly. 

"I've got a meeting with Fred Dansen from the Senate Minority's office," Josh began. 

"About the gas bill?" 

"Yeah." 

"Listen. Tell him why it'll hurt the Majority Leader to vote it down - that'll hook him faster than the fact that it's the right thing to do. Toby, you should be there, too..." 

CJ zoned out as the men discussed the issue further, and the President watched her carefully. Something was definitely not right about her - about her demeanor, or perhaps her general behavior. Bartlet had easily been able to keep tabs on CJ during the three days that she had spent living at the White House; but now that she was back at her own apartment, he naturally saw much less of her. After everything else, that simple fact unsettled him more than he expected, or wished to admit. 

CJ had spent her first full day safe from a madman's clutches at the White House on Friday, and Abbey had insisted that she stay at the Residence over the weekend. However, on Sunday afternoon, CJ had made it clear that she'd like to go home. Abbey had let her do so, albeit reluctantly, on the condition that Agent Reilly went with her and bunked in an apartment across the hall from CJ's. The new situation seemed to suit everyone just fine - except Bartlet. He was still skittish knowing that CJ was out in the world, alone, somewhat unprotected. Agent Reilly's presence was appreciated, and essential; but there was always the nagging fear that something could get past the lone bodyguard - and the single gun - to harm his Press Secretary. 

"CJ?" Leo asked, bringing them both back to the present. She looked up, rather absently, Bartlet noticed. 

"Yes?" 

"What did the OMB Auditor want?" 

She sighed and shook her head. "It's amazing, the nerve of this man. He has his assistant call up the White House Press Secretary to complain that his parking spot was taken today, and to suggest that the White House finance the construction of a separate underground parking facility." 

Leo smirked. "There is a separate underground parking facility. It's called the parking garage across the street." 

"Yeah, what's wrong with that? That's where I park," Sam added. 

CJ shrugged. "I pointed that out to his assistant. He seems to think that it's beneath him to have to walk across the street to get to his car from his office." 

"You tell him that it's his own fault he can't get his ass to work on time, and if his precious spot on Executive Drive is taken, he can park under the New EOB, just like the rest of us." 

Everyone chuckled, but Bartlet watched as CJ simply nodded and made a note. 

/She's utterly joyless./ 

"CJ, are you doing the briefing at nine?" Leo asked. 

CJ nodded again. "Yes." 

"You sure?" 

Josh, Sam, and Toby glanced at each other nervously at that pointed query, but CJ just looked Leo in the eye and nodded firmly. 

"Of course, Leo," she said. "I can do it." 

If Leo had doubts, he didn't put them forth. "All right." 

The meeting ended, and Josh, Toby, Sam, and CJ filed out of the Oval Office; the men were careful not to crowd CJ as she walked in front of them. Leo crossed the famous seal on the carpet to stand next to his friend at the desk. 

"How do you think she's doing?" he asked quietly, waiting as the President's body slowly turned from watching CJ to face him. 

"You know, I feel like there's something missing from her, and I tried the entire meeting to figure it out," Bartlet said softly. "It just came to me." 

"What is it?" 

He sighed. "I haven't seen her smile once yet." 

\--- 

"Hey, CJ!" 

"Great to see you!" 

/Wonderful. It's nice to see you all, as well. Just take five steps back./ 

Toby, Josh, and Sam trailed behind the veritable West Wing celebrity as they walked through the bullpen, her unconditional, self-appointed watchdogs. At first, their constant protection and service had made her feel flattered, touched that they cared for her - but now, three days later, it was getting to the point where CJ wanted to scream whenever anyone asked if she needed anything. 

/Here I go, into my office - and look at the Three Stooges hover outside my door. It's not like I don't have Secret Service protection, or anything.../ 

Agent Colleen Reilly, however, didn't buzz around CJ incessantly like some kind of insect. 

/I'm safe here. It's the White House, for God's sake - do they think psychotic lunatics lurk behind the columns, waiting to reach out and snatch me away?/ 

CJ frowned. 

/No. I'm lying to myself - and I'm taking it out on them./ 

/*Am* I really safe here?/ 

The truth was, deep down, she felt terrified. Perpetually. 

/I want the attention - I do value it. But do they have to make me look weak, like I can't protect myself?/ 

/What are you talking about?/ a part of her mind screamed. /You *can't* protect yourself! You were abducted by a crazed maniac for exactly that reason!/ 

/No./ 

CJ sat down at her desk and smoothed her hair, as if such an action would prove to the world her strength, her confidence. Her invulnerability. 

/I can look out for myself. Especially after this./ 

/I *can*./ 

Her coffee mug, her pencil sharpener, her family photos - they all stared back at her cheerily, as if she'd never left. Next to her computer, Gail swam happily in her fishbowl. 

/You see? Everything's back to normal. As it should be./ 

Sam popped his head into her office. "CJ? You need anything? Coffee? I could get you coffee." 

/That's right. Take the cup. Coffee's fine... but what I really need is for everyone to leave me alone./ 

"Want anything else? No? Nothing at all? Okay." 

/Ah. Silence. Solitude./ 

/At last. Back behind my desk, in my own office- the one place where I truly belong./ 

CJ breathed deeply. Relaxation washed over her - 

"CJ? I got your coffee. Here you go. It's nice and hot. One cream, two sugar - just as you like it. Need anything else? Hungry? 'Cause you know, I could run across the street, to the Starbucks... or just downstairs to the mess... there's even the McDonalds next to the parking garage... you like McMuffins, right?" 

/If I throw this file at him, will he get the message?/ 

/Lord, he's still talking. Like some kind of eager parrot./ 

"Nothing? You sure? Your stapler's full? How about your paper tray? Got enough pens? One can't really have too many pens, now can they -" 

/Maybe if I just stare at him really hard./ 

"Okay, well - if you're sure -" 

/I love you, Sam, but LEAVE already!/ 

"Okay. Give me a call if you need anything, anything at all." 

/Honestly, the way they fawn over me - it's totally unlike them!/ 

CJ got up from her desk chair and shut the door to her office firmly. Sitting down once again, she propped her feet up on the desk and leaned back, basking in the cheery sunshine streaming through her window, so contrary to her gloomy mood. 

/There. Door's shut. Carol will stop any more wayward well-wishers, and I can have some peace./ 

Her mind shifted suddenly. 

/Oh, no! I forgot about the other door -/ 

As though in answer to the very thought, Josh stepped through the door that connected their offices, his face anxious. "CJ? You okay in here by yourself? Need anything? I could get you coffee - nope, looks like you've got that. Are you hungry? Need me to type anything -" 

/No, Donna's got enough work on her hands./ 

"Got any words you need defined?" 

/Kill me now./ 

\--- 

The door loomed in front of CJ. 

/What is the *matter* with me? It's just a press briefing./ 

It would be the first press briefing she conducted since her return, and as such, the first time she'd face any reporters at all. With the exception of Danny, of course. 

/I really don't want to go in there. I'll have to stand there on my own, while people yell and scream and shout -/ 

/Well, at least the Press Corps only knows me as CJ. If anyone shouted my full name right now, I think I'd go catatonic./ 

She could hear, through the door, a noise level that could be attributed to around fifty people. Apparently, it was a full house. 

/I'm sure they're expecting me. Wonderful./ 

All at once Carol came through the door, shutting it behind her quickly. For all of CJ's stoicism, a hint of nervousness still showed in her demeanor; Carol took this in and regarded her boss gently. 

"They're ready for you," she said quietly, trying to be supportive rather than ominous. 

CJ simply nodded. 

"You okay?" 

/Oh, hell - do I really look that terrified?/ 

CJ tugged her jacket down and smoothed her skirt, giving her assistant what she hoped was a calm, collected nod. "Of course I am." 

Carol opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think the better of it. She smiled shyly. 

"CJ - I'm so glad that you're all right." 

CJ laid her hand on Carol's shoulder, squeezing it for a moment in genuine affection. Then she took a deep, steadying breath, opened the door, and stepped through. 

For four days, the White House Press Corps had been briefed by CJ's assistant. Carol was a good substitute; she delivered the news efficiently, and was clear-voiced and clear-headed. However, as it had been said many times over the last week, *no one* was as good as CJ. 

And today, after four days and a weekend of worry, the sight of their beloved spokeswoman had the Press Corps on their feet, clapping and whistling. 

As CJ walked up the small set of steps to the podium, she was taken aback by the reaction. Every single one of the forty-eight seats was filled. Camera flashes practically lit the small room on their own; and to her surprise, reporters were standing before her, applauding her... simply because they liked her, and they'd missed her. 

The rush of standing there, before the eye of the world, and knowing that people were genuinely glad to see her, took CJ's breath away. 

/I have *seriously* underestimated my popularity around here./ 

Standing tall at the podium now, CJ waved the enthusiastic journalists down with her hand. "Thank you - thank you, everyone, very much." She had to wait some time before the forty-eight people in front of her quieted and took their seats. The single sheet on top of her file, containing a handwritten paragraph, was the first thing she had to communicate; swallowing hard, she began. 

"I think it's fair to say that I never expected anything like this. I suppose I owe you all an explanation for my extended leave - but the truth is, I really don't feel up to talking about it just yet. I know that you all have the basic details behind my hiatus, and if you don't mind, I'd like to leave it at that for now, while at the same time offering my sincere thanks for everyone's support and kindness." She paused to allow her words to penetrate fully. 

Any journalist would be considered pretty low to disregard *that* plea for privacy - and as such, the White House Press Corps collectively decided to respect her request. 

"Okay, first item of business: the gas bill. Toby Ziegler and Josh Lyman are taking meetings today with representatives from the Senate Minority Leader's office..." 

The briefing continued, but one reporter in the crowd heard none of it. Danny Concannon's attention was focused solely on the woman at the podium. 

/She doesn't look good./ At first glance, the Press Secretary appeared very calm and put-together; however, upon a closer appraisal, Danny could see the paleness of her skin and the dark rings under her eyes. 

/She obviously hasn't been sleeping well. I wonder if she even notices what a poor job she's doing taking care of herself./ 

The briefing had a different feel than what he was used to, and Danny was unsettled. 

/I don't know what this is - this feeling. Everything appears to be normal; she's delivering the same news she's always delivered -/ 

In a flash, Danny figured it out. 

/She's not enjoying this at all./ 

However much CJ Cregg complained about having to deal with the press day in and day out, it had always been clear to everyone that the Press Secretary really loved her job, and received great satisfaction from it. She conducted her briefings like genuine discussions, casually and conversationally, even when she had to closely watch what she was saying. Danny had never before been bored during a briefing under the Bartlet administration. 

Until today. 

CJ stood behind the podium as though it were a shield, as stiff and unsmiling as a statue; she delivered the facts shortly, emotionlessly. Danny took note of this worriedly. 

/I hope she's okay./ 

\--- 

After the briefing, CJ retreated quickly to her office and sat down behind her desk, burying her head in her hands. 

/What is the *matter* with me? I completely froze up in there!/ 

/I wonder if anyone noticed! What will they think? God, I can't afford to be vulnerable in this job -/ 

She sighed and smoothed her hair back for the fifth time that morning; the action was becoming habitual. 

/I can *not* let my fears show. If I start to succumb to anxiety attacks.../ 

She didn't even want to think about it. 

/If they think I'm losing it, they'll make me take a medical leave./ 

/I can't let that happen. This job is the only tie to sanity that I've got left!/ 

A gentle knock sounded on her office door, and she rolled her eyes, exasperated. 

"Sam, I'm really fine in here. I don't need anything. You should get back to work." 

There was a brief moment of silence, and CJ wondered whether or not she'd offended her well-meaning friend. 

"Actually, CJ, it's me." Toby's voice carried clearly through the wood. 

CJ mentally kicked herself. "Sorry. Come on in." 

Toby opened the door carefully, stepped through, and closed it again behind him just as carefully. He kept an obvious distance between them. 

"I just came to see how you were doing." 

/Oh, for the love of all that is holy -/ 

"I'm fine." CJ leaned back in her chair, attempting to exude calmness, but she couldn't keep a frustrated edge from creeping into her voice. "I'd be even better if people would stop asking me that question." 

Toby nodded, as if affirming something to himself, and CJ narrowed her eyes. 

/Where the hell does he get the nerve to stand there and judge me like that?/ 

Toby took a single step forward, his eyes now aimed at the ground. "Listen, I came to talk to you about something important." 

CJ didn't respond; rather, she placed her feet on the desk and leaned back even more, crossing her arms over her chest. His evident discomfort at any information he had to share felt like a challenge. Well, she could take it. How weak did he honestly believe she was? 

"Paul Thatcher's trial begins on Wednesday." 

CJ's indifference shattered abruptly. She jolted physically, her feet flew off the desk, and she shot out of her seat, her mouth open. 

"WHAT?" 

Toby nodded again, reaffirming what he'd just said. CJ put a hand to her head, then to her mouth. 

"But - how? Why? The crime wasn't even committed a week ago! How can there be a trial so soon? I thought these things took months!" 

/I thought I'd have time, before I had to face him.../ 

Toby shrugged. "It's a fluke. The discovery is over, being that there really wasn't much left to discover after the Secret Service got through with the situation; and the judge who the case was assigned to has a nearly empty docket, for some odd reason. If you ask me, it's all rather mysterious; regardless, instead of delaying the trial, they chose to simply go forward as soon as possible, with the hope that it will be done before Christmas." 

CJ simply stood in front of him, shell-shocked and speechless. 

Toby took another step forward, now looking at CJ full-on. "You realize what this means, don't you?" 

CJ's eyes met his, then looked away quickly. 

/He thinks I'm weak. He thinks I can't handle this./ 

She sat down again and performed the compulsory act of smoothing her hair. When her eyes finally met his again, she was as collected as he'd ever seen her. 

"Of course I know what it means," she said, calmly and convincingly. "I'll have to testify." 

He didn't quite buy her attempt at reassurance, and pressed on. 

"Not just that - you'll have to testify now. As in next week. Not in a couple of months, like we assumed." 

/Easy, girl. Don't lose your temper. He may be patronizing, but you can't let him know just how much it angers you./ 

CJ maintained her control, but scowled and looked at her colleague testily. "Yeah. I *get* it, Toby." 

He put up his hands defensively and took a step back. "I know you understand. What I don't know is, are you ready for this?" 

/Oh, to hell with my temper./ 

"You know, I really wish people would stop assuming I'm this fragile thing that they've got to treat with care for fear I'll break! I'm fine, Toby. What happened to me wasn't such a huge deal. Worse things have happened -" 

She stopped and bit her lip, fuming. Toby shook his head. 

"What?" 

/Worse things have happened to much better people./ 

She took a deep breath, fighting to calm herself, before taking her seat once more and looking up at him coldly. 

"I'm really fine. You should get back to work." 

Toby opened his mouth, but then nodded and walked towards the door. His hand on the doorknob, however, he changed his mind and turned around. 

"I'm going with you to court. I've already cleared it with Leo. You can protest all you want, but the truth is, you need someone there with you, and I'm the first person who volunteered." 

CJ jerked in her seat, startled by his offer, his consideration - or perhaps at the fact that he beat out the competition. 

"One more thing." He hesitated. CJ braced herself for another moment of overprotective condescension. 

"I know that you think it will demean you to show that you've been affected by all of this," Toby said quietly. "But it's okay to need time to recover." He paused as he opened the door, then spoke to her over his shoulder one more time. 

"We're all willing to give it to you." 

\--- 

/Two days. Two days. Two days. Two days. Two days./ 

CJ sat on her couch at home. She'd left work after most of the staff had already taken off for the night, in an attempt to avoid any more conversations about whether or not she was doing okay. Agent Reilly had seen her inside safely, then gone to her own quarters, in a previously empty suite across the hall. Now, alone in her own apartment, Toby's words from earlier that day hammered through CJ's skull relentlessly. 

/Two days. Two days. Two days -/ 

"How can this be happening?" she said out loud. Her voice reverberated off the white walls of her living room, reaffirming that there was no one there to answer her question. 

/It's a trial. Trials take months to begin. Months. This trial shouldn't be happening yet./ 

/I was kidnapped less than a week ago! How can they be ready for trial?/ 

/How can I convince everyone that I'm okay, if I have to go testify? I'm just not -/ 

"I'm not ready," she whispered, afraid to admit it - but unable to deny it any longer. 

After a few more pensive moments, she got up and padded into the kitchen in stocking feet. She filled the empty teakettle with water from the tap and set it on the stove before sinking into a wooden chair wearily to wait. 

CJ had always prided herself in keeping her living space clean and presentable. Her apartment was filled with homey touches, like jars of potpourri, candles, and framed family photos. In her kitchen, she'd used the same country-style decor her mother had used in their California home; it comforted her, and made her feel as though the three thousand miles between her and her family wasn't such a gigantic distance. 

On her table were white ceramic salt-and-pepper shakers and a basket of napkins. CJ looked at these items fondly, envisioning herself at home in Napa, in the kitchen, listening to her mother hum a tune as she prepared a meal. Mrs. Cregg came over to the table and sat next to CJ; she took her daughter's hand in her own and smiled. 

"Darling, don't worry. Everything's all right. You're safe now, and you'll be fine." 

CJ reached out for her mother, to hug her - 

The sudden, shrill whistle of the teapot on the stove brought CJ crashing back down into reality. She sighed, then rose from the table quickly, crossing to the stove and removing the boiling water from the burner. The cabinet door creaked slightly as she opened it to get a mug out. Not really looking at what she was doing, she grasped something white and ceramic and pulled it down. 

When she saw what it was, the world stopped. 

In her hands she held a white ceramic flour jar. 

CJ's throat began to close up, and her breathing intensified. Paul's face loomed right in front of her eyes - 

//The thick white porcelain jar shatters again and again in her memory, the shards spinning in place from the sheer force of the impact. Would he break her bones as easily?// 

With a cry, she set the jar down hastily and fled to her bedroom. She fell onto the bed and covered her face with her hands, drawing her knees up to her chest, trembling uncontrollably. 

/No. I won't let this happen. I'm home now, I'm safe -/ 

Paul's hands reached towards her still. She was in the cabin, and she couldn't get away, couldn't make it *stop* - 

//Keep breathing. Breathe.// 

//I don't know you. I don't want to stay with you. Please, no... // 

CJ just lay in bed and shook, jerking as each new memory slammed viciously through her mind. 

/God, will this ever end?/ 

She didn't sleep at all that night. 

\--- 

The Way it Never Ever Was 

\--- 

"All rise. The honorable Timothy R. Schafer, presiding." 

Toby and CJ stood from their bench in the courtroom gallery on Wednesday morning as the judge walked through his chamber doors and took his seat. The courtroom was large and old-looking, with rickety wooden chairs and a distracting echo. 

"Be seated." CJ and Toby sat down and waited as the bailiff recited the case information. 

A door on the side of the courtroom opened, and two uniformed officers walked through with Paul Thatcher in their custody. 

CJ immediately tensed, and Toby, sitting next to her, felt it. He looked at her face; her eyes were widened, her forehead crinkled. She looked absolutely terrified. 

"Hey," he whispered. She turned and looked at him, for once not attempting to hide her feelings; the fear was written across her face. 

"It's okay," he said softly, patting her hand. She didn't flinch away. "It's all right. He can't hurt you from over there." 

She nodded and looked back towards the front of the room. Toby noticed that she tilted her body in such a way that she never faced Thatcher, seated at the defendant's table. 

The prosecutor and Thatcher's defense lawyer had remained standing. 

"John Taggart for the defense." 

"Brian Hartman for the District, Your Honor." 

The judge, seated high above them all, nodded. "I'll hear opening statements from you, first, Mr. Hartman." 

Hartman nodded and made his way over to the jury. 

Paul Thatcher, meanwhile, sat quietly and calmly at the defendant's table. He slowly turned his body around, looking at the courtroom's occupants, until his gaze fell on CJ. 

His eyes hardened. 

CJ stared back, petrified, one hand covering her mouth. Toby looked murderously at Thatcher, but the accused man didn't avert his glare. His green eyes bored into CJ from across the courtroom. 

CJ flashed back to the kidnapping, the suddenness taking her breath away. 

//She could feel the terrifying heat from his body... // 

//I'm so scared... is any of this showing on my face? Can you tell that I am repulsed by you?// 

Toby sensed her building fear and rubbed her hand between his, watching her face worriedly. 

Thatcher continued to stare at her across the courtroom. 

CJ's breathing quickened, and she closed her eyes against the memories that assaulted her. She could still feel his gaze on her, though - he wasn't going to let her go this time. 

The world began to spin, and there was no one there - no one there but her and Paul, and he was coming towards her, his eyes full of fire and his face angry - 

CJ stood up abruptly and walked out of the courtroom. Paul Thatcher, both lawyers, the judge, and the few scattered occupants of the gallery watched her go, startled; she made her way through the large doors and disappeared. Toby flinched as the doors thudded shut loudly. 

It took him half a second to weigh the pros and cons before he made up his mind and followed her. 

\--- 

CJ ran into the ladies' room and stood looking in the mirror for a moment, her chest heaving and her body shaking. Unable to hold it in any more, she turned, dropped to her knees in a stall, and vomited into the toilet. 

/Oh. Oh my God./ 

/I can't do this. I can't, I can't, I can't -/ 

/Oh, my God, I have to testify. How can I testify if he's there - if he's looking at me.../ 

The nausea roiled in her stomach and she retched into the toilet again, her empty stomach bringing up nothing. 

/I've got to eat. I can't even throw up properly anymore./ 

Trembling, CJ flushed the toilet and sat on her knees in the stall. A cold sweat had broken out across her entire body, and she watched her hands shake, beside herself. 

/I can't handle it - not when he's there./ 

/What is *wrong* with me? I'm stronger than this!/ 

She heard the door of the bathroom open, and a soft voice called to her. "CJ? You in here?" 

She gulped, driving back her fear, and forced herself to answer calmly. "Yes. I'm in here. I'm fine, Toby -" 

But she could hear the door closing behind him already, and his footsteps crossed the tile floor towards her. She looked up as he neared. 

"Oh, CJ -" 

"You're not supposed to be in here. This is the girl's bathroom." 

"I don't think the hall monitor will catch me," Toby said, lightly sarcastic. CJ looked down at the floor as he kneeled next to her. 

"What happened in there?" 

CJ pushed her hair behind her ear and sighed. "I didn't think it would be so bad." 

"He looked at you." 

She nodded. 

"You don't have to stay today. They won't need you." 

CJ shook her head. 

/Leaving would be a show of weakness./ 

/If there's anything I can't be, it's weak./ 

"No. What would people think if I left on the first day?" 

Toby watched her face for a moment. 

"It's okay to be afraid of Paul Thatcher," he said softly. CJ looked up at him with unsure, tear-rimmed eyes; he continued gently. "No one is going to think any less of you if you are. He committed an unspeakable act against you." 

The wall came flying up again, hard and fast, and Toby wondered where he'd crossed the line. CJ's face hardened visibly; standing up, she stepped past Toby. 

"If I leave now, I'll never come back," she said with steel in her voice. Turning around, she eyed him vehemently. 

"It's not your job to protect me." 

She strode out of the bathroom, and for the second time that day, Toby watched her go, his face etched with concern. 

\--- 

The Oval Office was where some of the most important decisions in the world were made, day in and day out. That hallowed chamber had been the meeting place of countless statesmen, men more powerful than most could imagine. Its walls had guarded the greatest secrets in history. 

Even after two years of working within its confines, Jed Bartlet still couldn't help being awed at the might of the room. However, tonight his mind was so full of stray worries pushing and prodding at his consciousness that the pull he always felt while in his office was absent. 

He and Leo sat on the sofas in the center of the room. It had been a strained, anxiety-filled day, as the President, Leo, Josh, and Sam all tried to focus on their work while their distress for CJ constantly distracted them. 

"Do you think things went all right today?" Bartlet asked quietly. 

Leo shrugged. "I guess we won't know until Toby comes to tell us," he said. 

"I know, but I'm saying - do you think she'll be all right, having to sit in a courtroom with the guy who threatened her life for three days?" 

Leo's face darkened. "I honestly don't know." 

The moment of silence stretched out as they waited for Toby, and Bartlet grew tense. 

"It seems like she's getting over... what happened," Bartlet said awkwardly. 

Leo looked at his friend; unease caused him to lie. "Yes. I think so, too." 

"What I wonder is, are *we* getting over it?" 

"Sir?" 

"Sam and Josh trail behind her like private servants, and Toby walks around in a constant funk because he can't say what he wants to her. Do you know that I have the guard to the northwest gate call me every day as soon as she comes in to work?" 

"I can't say I'm surprised." 

Bartlet sighed. "He hasn't missed a single day yet." Pause. "You know, I wonder when the day will come when I'll tell him he doesn't have to call tomorrow?" 

Toby entered the room quietly and stood until the President waved him over. 

"Come on, sit down." 

Toby obediently sat on the couch beside Leo, across from Bartlet. 

"Is CJ at home?" 

Toby nodded. "I drove her there. Agent Reilly's with her." 

Bartlet sat back and folded his hands. "Well? How did she do?" 

"It began... well enough, I suppose." 

"But?" 

"They brought Paul Thatcher into the courtroom, and she became - upset. Afraid." 

Leo pursed his lips. "Well, we expected as much, didn't we?" 

Toby shrugged and sighed. "Yeah - yes, we did. But then he... he turned around in his chair and looked at her." 

"He looked at her?" 

"He stared at her, with an angry look on his face." 

"It took Ron Butterfield an hour to convince me not to have the Secret Service just kill the guy," Bartlet mumbled, the hatred and disgust swelling in him. 

"How did she -" 

Toby rubbed his face with one hand and leaned back. "It was bad. She got up and left the courtroom." 

"Did you go after her?" 

"I -" Toby stopped. 

/Do I really want to tell them this?/ 

/She prides herself on her control. I can't take that away from her./ 

"No. She came back a moment later," Toby lied. "She was fine, for the rest of the time we were there." 

Bartlet nodded, seemingly satisfied. "When does she testify?" 

"Friday. Sir..." Toby hesitated, then made up his mind and continued. "I have serious concerns about her testifying." 

"She has to, Toby. She absolutely has to." 

"I know, it's just -" 

"You couldn't save her before, and you want to save her now, from this," Bartlet said gently. He watched his staffer look up, startled. "I know. I'm feeling the same way." 

"I hope she'll be all right," Leo said. 

"She won't talk to me, or let me in, at all," Toby said quietly. "I want to help her, but it's almost as if she's choosing to be in pain." 

The three men sat in silence for a few minutes, each reflecting over their mutual worries and concerns. 

Bartlet broke the stillness finally, reiterating something that had been troubling him for days. 

"She's still not smiling." 

\--- 

After the crisis of the past month, Jed Bartlet's priorities had changed. Although he'd never admit it, no longer was his chief concern the well-being of the nation; no, that took a back seat to a more important matter. 

Namely, CJ's comfort. 

The car she was in at that moment was certainly a physical manifestation of that wish, as was it a direct example of the President's luxurious transportation service. Cool, plush black leather seats cradled her body, and the smooth silence of the ride, never jarring, left her to think freely, uninterrupted, as she stared out the window. 

Toby looked at her unabashedly. Truth be told, he was worried about her. She had built a wall around herself that he could not break through, no matter how hard he tried; and from the outside, he watched her deteriorate further and further. 

/She is in no way getting over the trauma. Moreover, this trial sure as hell isn't helping./ 

Agent Colleen Reilly sat across from him in the Towncar. If she had thoughts about his dark, worried eyes being constantly focused on her charge, she didn't voice them. That wasn't her job. 

Today was the day that CJ would testify in court. She would have to sit on the stand and recount every horrible thing that had happened to her, in front of the world and God. Toby was scared down to his bones. 

/What if she can't take it? What if she's destroyed today?/ 

/No./ CJ was a self-assured, calm, intelligent woman. Besides Abbey Bartlet, she was the toughest woman he had ever known. /She can handle this./ 

"Did you have breakfast before we left?" Toby asked, breaking the silence purposefully; it had become unbearable. 

She looked up at him listlessly, hating his constant protection. "No." 

It was a challenge. /She wants me to get upset,/ he realized. /She knows how worried I am for her, and she's beyond caring./ He willed himself to reply calmly, but a little edge still crept into his voice. 

"So, now you're not eating?" 

CJ had watched him throughout his mental processes, and found, somewhat curiously, that she didn't care what he thought of her. She told the truth. 

"Eating doesn't matter anymore." 

Toby bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. /*Why* won't she let me in?/ 

/Let it go. There are more important things to discuss./ 

"The defense lawyer today is going to be harsh," he reminded her. "Are you ready for that?" 

Silence. Her eyes remained focused on a spot out the window. 

"Their defense is riding on whether or not they can prove that Paul Thatcher -" he noticed that for all her apparent indifference, her eyes still widened almost imperceptibly at the mention of her abductor's name - "is insane. If it's possible, when you're on the stand, try to stay away from using any words that could show him as being crazy." 

Startling him with sudden facial expression, she rolled her eyes and smirked. "Are you telling me to lie, Toby?" 

It was the first time she'd said his name in two days, and he basked in it for a moment before responding. "You know what I'm saying -" 

"Because," she said, sitting up straight and leaning forward, "I won't lie. Paul was insane, and there's nothing I can do to change that. He was, and is, insane." 

Her body relaxed again almost as quickly as it had tensed, and she sat back in her seat, staring aimlessly at the raindrops spattering the window. 

Toby exhaled, disappointed. /Are we *ever* going to get her back?/ 

\--- 

"The people call CJ Cregg." 

CJ stood up from her seat next to Toby, looking back once, apprehensively. Toby squeezed her hand reassuringly, then watched her as she made her way over to the witness stand. 

She took her seat, and the bailiff immediately approached her with a Bible. "Please raise your right hand." CJ placed her left hand on the Bible and raised the other. 

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" 

"Yes." No hesitation there. 

The bailiff retreated, and Hartman rose from the prosecutor's table. "Miss Cregg, tell us the first thing you remember on the morning of December fourth." 

CJ took a deep breath. "I remember walking to my car that morning. It was early, and I was going to go to the gym before work. I remember feeling stung, like something had pinched me..." 

//walk to car, like every day... sting... did something sting me?... pressure around my arms... *what are you doing to me?*// 

"And then it was like someone was holding me, so that I couldn't move." 

//LET ME GO!// 

Hartman nodded. "What's the next thing you remember?" 

"I woke up lying on a strange bed, dressed in clothes that weren't mine... and he was next to me." 

//OhmygodnothomenotalonenotinmybednotanyoneIknowWHATHAPPENED?// 

"Did Mr. Thatcher ever hurt you without reason?" 

She shook her head. "No. He was very gentle with me - at first," she added, stressing those words. But he would get angry over small things." 

"How do you mean?" 

"When he came home from his... his supply run, he found out that he'd forgotten something he'd wanted for me. He got so angry that he picked up a ceramic jar of flour and threw it at the wall." 

//The thick white porcelain jar shatters again and again in her memory, the shards spinning in place from the sheer force of the impact. Would he break her bones as easily?// 

"But Mr. Thatcher did hurt you at some point, did he not?" 

"Yes, he did." 

"How did he hurt you?" 

Toby tensed. /Do I really want to hear this?/ Expecting CJ's voice to tremble, or her face to show fear, he braced himself. 

But CJ's demeanor remained cold, expressionless. "He hit me with his fists when he got angry with me. He would have killed me if the Secret Service had not charged in at that very moment." 

Toby closed his eyes, pained. /That unspeakable bastard./ 

Hartman nodded again and thanked her, re-taking his seat. Taggart, the defense lawyer, stood up and strode over to the witness stand. 

"Miss Cregg," he began, "when, exactly, did Mr. Thatcher hurt you?" 

"After he came back from attempting to kill Danny Concannon." Her face showed no emotion, and Toby took note, worried. 

If he was swayed by the horror of CJ's story, Taggart didn't show it. His voice raised in volume. "And - only after you knocked him unconscious by hitting him with a chair, correct?" 

Toby started visibly, moving forward to the edge of his seat. *That* detail had never come to his attention. 

CJ remained disturbingly indifferent. "Correct." 

"Why did you attack him?" 

"I was afraid for my life." 

"But why, if Mr. Thatcher had so far made no intentions of hurting you?" 

CJ raised her chin defiantly. "He went to kill Danny because I wouldn't have sex with him," she said sharply. "I knew that if I kept resisting after Danny was dead, he would either kill me or kill other people from my life." 

Disgust hit Toby so hard that it nearly took his breath away. 

/She *was* sexually assaulted,/ he thought in horror. /No wonder she's been so skittish around men. The bastard tried to force her to give herself away./ 

Not fazed by CJ's bluntness, Taggart continued. "I see. Were you afraid for your friends' lives?" 

"I was." 

"Did that fear extend to the President's life, as well?" 

"Yes. At that point, I considered myself to be a direct threat to the President's well-being." 

"Why didn't you kill yourself, then?" 

It took all of Toby's willpower to not throw himself at Taggart. How dare he. How *dare* he ask her a question like that! 

CJ narrowed her eyes at Taggart. "Excuse me?" she asked quietly. 

"You were afraid that your friends would be killed, that the President of the United States would be harmed, all because of you. You yourself were in constant fear of being raped or murdered. Why, I ask, did you not take your own life before any of those events could occur?" 

Her blood rushed through her veins so loudly that CJ was afraid the entire courtroom would hear. This self-serving son of a bitch. He didn't know *anything* about her experience! 

"I don't know, Mr. Taggart," she said forcefully. "Should I have?" 

"If you were endangering other's lives, why didn't you?" 

Silence. 

"I'll tell you why, Miss Cregg. It's because you knew you were in no real danger, didn't you? Your fears were entirely based on speculation, weren't they?" 

/How can he possibly think that?/ Toby thought, fuming. His eyes shifted to Hartman, quietly sitting at the prosecutor's table. /Why the hell isn't he objecting to this?/ 

Eyes flashing, CJ sat up straighter in her seat and placed her hands on the rail in front of her. 

"Listen. The entire house was furnished as if he'd had a female 'guest' there before. How was I supposed to know whether or not he'd kidnapped and killed another woman before me?" 

Taggart whirled towards the judge, his features intense. "Objection! She's testifying to facts not in evidence." 

"All right. Sustained. Don't speculate, Miss Cregg. Just answer the question." 

Rage coursed through her body, pounded through her skull. She couldn't see, couldn't *think* - 

"I ask you again. Why were you so convinced that Mr. Thatcher would harm you?" 

"He took off to *kill* Danny Concannon!" 

"But why did you think he would hurt you?" 

"I didn't think it. I *knew* it. It was only a matter of time before he raped me, and after that, the only thing left for him to do was kill me!" 

"Why is that?" Taggart fired back. 

"Because he had to possess me. He was obsessed with control, and he was only happy if I was completely under his!" 

/At least she's not totally withdrawn anymore,/ Toby thought. /Anger is better than complete detachment./ 

Taggart paused for effect, his back to CJ, before facing her once again. "Does what you just described sound like the mentality of a sane person?" 

/DAMMIT./ 

CJ backpedaled visibly, sitting back quietly in her seat, her mouth open. She thought furiously. 

/Come on, CJ. You deal with worse than this daily from the Press Corps./ 

Troublingly, all emotion had disappeared from her face again; her features were completely blank, as if nothing had happened at all during the last few minutes. 

She folded her hands. "He knew exactly what he was doing," she said calmly. "If he was insane, then why did he cover his tracks? Why did he kill Anita Bellevue and rig up a decoy, unless he knew holding me against my will was illegal?" Her tone was perfectly reasonable and devoid of any anger; it was as if she were in a meeting with the President, discussing the itinerary for a trip. 

Pause. "He knew what he was doing. He wanted to have me." 

//I was *never* yours. *You will not possess me*.// 

"But I didn't let him." 

\--- 

"I didn't let him possess me - or, I thought I didn't." 

CJ and Toby sat across from each other in her living room. Agent Reilly had seen them inside that night, after they'd all returned from court, and had then retreated to her place across the hall; the two White House staffers now shared a tense silence, alone. 

"You were under extreme, terrible conditions, and yet you didn't give in to him - that's admirable." 

She sobbed slightly, her breath caught in her throat; when she looked at him, she had tears in her eyes. 

"That's a nice way to see it. But the truth is - I *did* give in to him." 

Toby didn't pry; he simply let her tell her story. 

"When he was going to go kill Danny... it was because I wouldn't sleep with him. He said that the only reason I couldn't give myself to him was because there was still someone else in the picture. And - he thought of Danny." She hung her head. "I was panicked, Toby. I knew that he was going to go - to kill Danny, and I couldn't - I couldn't let it happen, not because of me." 

Toby nodded. "You did what anyone would have done." 

"Did I?" Her voice cracked. "I offered myself to him... I was going to give him what he wanted, and just be done with it. I did it willingly." 

Toby drew in a sharp breath. 

/She did that - for Danny?/ 

/Would she have done that for me?/ 

"I lied to Paul. I told him I loved him, to save my friend." She sighed. "But I failed." 

Toby leaned forward in his chair and spoke firmly. "You did not fail. Failure implies fault- and what happened was in no way your fault. If Danny hadn't been shot, we would have no idea where you were, to this day. Danny doesn't regret it, and he's alive - he pulled through just fine. You can't blame this on yourself." 

CJ nodded, but he could see that she didn't quite take his words to heart. She sat back in her chair and rubbed her face with her hands. "There's something... something I didn't tell anyone." 

/Oh, God - what is it?/ 

"When Paul left to kill Danny, I thought seriously about killing myself." 

Her confession hit Toby hard. He'd wondered if it had come to that - he'd prayed that it hadn't - but the admission of his worst fear was like a shock of cold water. 

"Oh, CJ -" he breathed. 

"I couldn't do it, Toby - I couldn't - I couldn't. I didn't even try." She sighed. 

"Why didn't you?" 

She swallowed. "It came down to - I didn't want one of my friends, one of you, to have to come identify my body." 

/Oh, to think how close Leo came to doing just that!/ 

"CJ," he began softly. "Can I say something?" 

"Of course." 

He took a deep breath. This is something she has to hear, he thought. 

"I'm worried about you. I don't think you're getting over what happened. In fact, I think you're getting worse." 

He watched as her face changed, from remorse, shame, and sorrow... to full-blown anger. 

"Toby -" 

"All the anger and fear you've got locked up inside is eating away at you - and you're letting it!" 

She stood up then, shot out of her seat with the full force of her indignation. Her eyes blazed down at him. "I don't know where you get the nerve to sit there and tell me what I'm doing wrong! This is none of your business. I can *handle* this, by MYSELF!" 

He rose as well, and took a step forward. Through his anger, he noticed that he was standing closer to her than he had since she'd been kidnapped. 

"CJ, you can't handle this. You need someone to help you! And to top it all off, you've *got* someone to turn to, but you're too damn stubborn and afraid to let anyone in!" 

"Oh, really! Who the hell can I turn to, then, Toby?" 

He took another step forward and shouted. "For God's sake, CJ, I'm standing right in front of you!" 

She flinched, her chin trembling. He saw her wall start to crumble; she closed her eyes, and tears spilled down her cheeks. 

Her mouth opened slightly, and she whispered. 

"I thought I was okay, but the thing is, I keep seeing... mountains. And he's there, and he won't go away. He keeps coming back - and back - and back." With every repetition, she slammed her fist into her palm, her tears coming more swiftly now. She opened her eyes and looked at him sorrowfully. 

"And I'm helpless..." 

Toby didn't speak. He didn't think. He simply reached forward and took her in his arms gently, rocking her as she cried. They sank down to the floor, and she sobbed, digging into his back with her nails, weeping for what both of them had lost. Grieving for what had been stolen. 

He held her tightly, his own tears clouding his vision; a man who'd once lost something he loved so much that it tore his heart out to think he might never get it back. 

\--- 

Such a Dark World She Weeps 

\--- 

**IMPORTANT** - This story has a very strong R rating, for swearing and descriptions of sexual violence. Let it be known that I would never want anyone to go through what's depicted here, and I have tried my hardest to do the victims of these acts justice. 

\--- 

"Hey there, champ," a voice said from the doorway of CJ's office on Friday morning. She looked up to see Danny Concannon, his head cocked and a slight grin on his face. 

"The last time somebody called me 'champ', I was eight years old and my dog had just been hit by a car," CJ said dryly as she regarded the reporter in front of her. Danny looked the same as when she'd seen him the week before; his hair was its messy red-blond self and his clothes were slightly rumpled. His left arm still rested in a white sling that hung from his shoulder. CJ eyed it guiltily. 

"You know, I never apologized to you." 

Danny shook his head and sat down in a chair next to her desk. "For what?" 

She spat out the words. "For getting you shot." 

"No." 

"Danny, I tried to stop him. I really did -" 

"CJ -" 

"I made every attempt. I was going to -" 

/I was going to sacrifice my dignity to keep you alive./ 

She stopped, unable to finish *that* sentence. "I did everything I could. But he had a gun, Danny, and he pulled it on me; Rosslyn was just too fresh in my memory." 

"CJ -" 

"He left before I could stop him." 

Danny tapped a pen on the desk for a moment, to make sure she was finished; he figured that if he interrupted her again, she'd throw him out. When it seemed that no more of her story was forthcoming, he spoke. 

"CJ - listen to me. It's not your fault. It was never your fault. If shooting me kept that lunatic away from you for even a second longer than he'd planned, then I'm glad it happened." 

Her eyes had started to tear up; no one had ever cared for her that much and admitted it. CJ kept her head down. 

"He's crazy, CJ. He's insane, and he did it for that reason and that reason alone. It's no one's fault." He sensed her struggle to maintain control over her feelings, and stood up to leave, not wanting to embarrass her. 

"Anyway, I just came to see how you were doing." 

CJ swallowed and nodded, looking up at him with watery eyes. "Are you okay?" 

Danny shrugged and nodded. "I will be." 

"When will that be?" 

He simply leaned against the doorjamb and looked at her fondly. "When you start smiling again." 

He exited, and CJ sat in silence, mulling over his words. 

/I don't think I'd be able to genuinely smile right now if I tried./ 

Toby entered quietly a few minutes later. 

"Are you ready to go?" 

CJ nodded dispassionately. 

Toby watched her as she stood and collected her coat and purse. "Will you be okay today? Paul's testimony -" 

"You know, it's funny," CJ said, her voice curious. "But I've found that I honestly don't care about anything anymore." 

\--- 

Cold light filtered in through the windows of the courtroom, casting a dim, gloomy light on everything and everyone within the room's confines, including a man sitting in the witness chair. Paul Thatcher waited calmly, quietly; his demeanor radiated innocence. To everyone present, he was strikingly ordinary-looking. Surely this soft-spoken man was incapable of the violence he'd been accused of. 

CJ eyed the man warily. Only she knew the horrible viciousness, the terrifying insanity locked behind that gentle facade. Only she could imagine his eyes narrowed, his face hungry, as he leaned toward her menacingly - 

Even across the cushion of space he had become accustomed to allowing his friend, Toby could feel CJ shudder intensely. 

Paul Thatcher's defense attorney, John Taggart, rose from his seat at the table on the judge's right. He was a shorter man, wiry, with a think shock of black hair and a perpetually displeased look about his demeanor, as if bad cheese dangled beneath his nose at every moment of the day. He crossed to the witness stand, deliberately striking the heel of his expensive dress shoes upon the polished marble floor with every step. 

"Mr. Thatcher," he said with his cello-like voice. "Describe to me what brought on your interest in CJ Cregg." 

Paul Thatcher smiled slightly to himself, as if remembering something wonderful. "I saw her on TV one day. She was fascinating. Beautiful, intelligent... so calm and collected. I knew that we were destined to be together." 

"How did you know this?" 

"Even though we'd never met, I knew that she knew I was out there. I could tell that she sensed me, when I watched her on the TV. I would go over to the screen..." He raised his hand, remembering the motion. "I would touch her face. I touched every part of her, when she was there behind the glass - I kissed her lips." Relaxing back into his seat, he sighed contentedly. "I knew that I loved her, and that she loved me. Every word she spoke felt like it was meant just for me. As she was." 

/How did he get "I love you" from a *news release*?/ 

Taggart nodded his head slightly, as if what Thatcher had said had somehow proven his case completely. "Did you have fantasies about her?" 

Beside him on the hard bench, Toby felt CJ cringe. 

Thatcher nodded excitedly. "Every time she came on TV, I wanted her so badly... I couldn't stop myself from fantasizing." Pause. "She was so beautiful." 

//You're so beautiful... And I've loved you for so long... I can scarcely believe we're finally together, at last...// 

"When was the first time you saw her, Mr. Thatcher? When did you fall in love with her?" 

Thatcher sighed sadly now. "I remember it perfectly. It was June seventh, 1999." 

/Dear God, that's my birthday./ 

/My birthday./ 

/He'd been watching me for TWENTY MONTHS./ 

"You fell in love with her a year and a half ago?" 

"Yes." 

"Why didn't you act immediately?" 

"Well, I didn't want to scare her -" 

Toby snorted. 

/What the hell did you think you were doing when you kidnapped her, you monster?/ 

"- and she was always so busy. There wasn't any time. I waited for almost a year before deciding to take her away... to our new life." 

"What prompted you to take action?" 

Thatcher shuddered. "The following May, she was shot at." 

/*I* was shot at? Those skinheads shot at Charlie and the President, not me./ 

The accused man's face became sorrowful, almost pained. "I was so frightened when I heard! I kept thinking about her - what if she'd *died*? My Claudia..." 

CJ flashed back suddenly, her awareness thrown back in time, to the cabin. 

//"My... my name is CJ." 

"Oh, I don't want to pervert your real, God-given name."// 

/Congratulations, you demon,/ she thought angrily. /You've managed to pervert it far more than I ever dreamed was possible!/ 

Toby's blood boiled at Thatcher's casual use of CJ's full name, but he managed to contain himself. 

/I will never use that name with her again,/ he vowed. 

On the witness stand, Thatcher's face relaxed again. 

His mood keeps changing. /What is he really thinking?/ Toby wondered. /This guy is harder to read than Sam's first drafts./ 

"I was so relieved, *so relieved*, when it appeared that my love had returned from the shooting unharmed." 

/UNHARMED? Josh was dying, the President had been wounded, and I had to field questions from a million reporters - while trying not to *faint* from the pain in my skull! You call that UNHARMED?/ 

"I thanked God that it was one of her friends who'd been hurt instead of her." 

On the hard wooden bench, Toby squirmed with guilt. /So did I./ 

"Anyway, I knew that it was time for me to act. I had to get her out of danger, don't you see? All of her friends, her reporter fellow, the President... no one cared about her except me." 

His mind screaming, it was all Toby could do not to get up and shout how false Thatcher's last statement had been. 

/Dear God, we would do ANYTHING for her!/ 

Taggart stepped back from the witness stand, starting to pace. "So - what did you do?" 

Thatcher folded his hands calmly. "I began following her. Everywhere she went, I was with her. I learned everything about her; what kind of food she liked, what kinds of clothes she wore - although, a variety of clothes proved hard to imagine, because most of the time I was around her, she was in business suits." 

/MOST OF THE TIME?/ 

/Had he watched her undress, like some horribly deluded peeping tom?/ 

Face dreamy, Thatcher continued. "But the times when she was in her apartment... we were alone. It was beautiful. I watched her do everything through her windows... and I fantasized even more. It was during those wonderful times when I knew that I had to carry out my plan." 

CJ's skin crawled. /He watched me live every aspect of my life,/ she thought. /And I never knew./ 

Taggart nodded again. "And did you carry out this plan?" 

"Yes. I went to her apartment the morning of December fourth. I went early, because I knew she'd be going to the gym - she'd missed her workout the day before, and she didn't like to skip it twice in one week." 

/He KNOWS me.../ 

"She came out of the elevator and walked to her car. I was taken away at first by how beautiful she was - it was the closest I'd ever been to her. She smelled incredible." 

Toby's hands balled into fists in his lap. 

"I came up behind her and put my arms around her. She struggled a lot. When I'd prepared to pick her up, I wasn't sure if I'd need to drug her... but she fought like a cat." He smiled in recollection. "That's one of the things I loved about her - how strong she was." 

"So you injected her?" 

"Yes. She quieted down, and I put her in her car. We drove for about five hours, until we reached the cabin... where our new life was going to begin." 

//"Where am I?" 

"I told you - you're home." 

"This... isn't my home." 

"It is now. "// 

"I took her inside and put her on the bed. She was dressed in her suit, and I needed to get rid of it - it was a dirty thing, from her old life." 

//"Speaking of suits, where did you put mine? I didn't see it anywhere." 

"Oh, that old thing? I burned it yesterday." 

WHAT? 

"Sure. It was a symbol of your old life. So I severed the ties for you. You'll never need it again, anyway... "// 

"I undressed her..." His eyes closed in ecstasy. "Her skin was so soft. I breathed all of her in, like she was air... it was all I could do not to touch her yet. But no, I wanted her to be awake for when we made love. I wanted her to feel it." 

/NO NO NO -/ 

Memory stabbed her like a knife. 

//The nature of his kiss is changing... becoming much less gentle. He pushes his tongue into her mouth, and brings one hand up behind her head, increasing the pressure to the point of invasion. She struggles not to tremble; she feels as though she's being devoured... // 

"So, I waited. When she woke up, I could barely contain myself. I was talking to her, finally, the woman I'd fallen in love with... the woman I was destined to spend forever with. She was pretty groggy, so I was gentle with her. I left her alone in the room for the night... and I heard her start the shower." 

//God, I hate the very idea of making myself even more vulnerable, even with the door locked, but I sure don't feel *clean*...// 

Thatcher sighed. "I wanted to be in there with her, so badly... you have no idea the willpower it took to keep me from going to her..." 

Toby's insides churned uncontrollably. 

//It was horrible enough to threaten her life; for some reason that none of the men could quite grasp, the notion of threatening her *body* derailed their composure completely...// 

If Taggart was at all disgusted by his client's description, he didn't show it. "So, you spent your time with her in the cabin for two days, in complete happiness." 

"Yes." 

"But that perfection didn't last, did it?" 

Thatcher's face darkened, and his green eyes stared across the courtroom, right at CJ. They bored into her sharply, and she gasped as if he'd reached across the space and touched her; her nightmare from two weeks ago came swirling back up to choke her in its terrifying grip - 

//His ice-cold fingers touched her face, stroking her hair back, and she suddenly felt pain like fire upon her skin. She screamed...// 

Next to her, Toby noticed CJ's hands clutching each other convulsively. 

/Let this end, God. Let this end soon./ 

\--- 

"She didn't love me! After everything I'd done for her. I took her away from the world, away from *pain* - and she threw it back in my face!" Paul Thatcher's frenzied, angry voice continued recounting his testimony. 

"How did she do this?" Taggart asked. 

Thatcher's nostrils flared angrily. "I waited a day before making any advances on her. I made her dinner, a feast, and she wore a black gown. We danced. It was perfect!" 

/PERFECT? I was TERRIFIED!/ 

"I started kissing her, and I was just about to take her dress off - and she stopped me." Thatcher scowled. "She told me at the time that she wasn't ready, that she wanted to wait for it to be right between us. But she was LYING, right to my *face*!" 

Toby watched nervously as Thatcher's fists balled up. 

"Then, the next morning, I woke up to find her gone. I was beside myself with worry, and I went out to find her. She was hurt, in the snow - I don't know what she thought she was doing..." 

/Making a signal to get myself OUT of that hellhole, you NUTCASE./ 

"I saved her. I took her back to the house and tended to her sprained ankle. She would have *died* out there if I hadn't found her." Thatcher seethed, his eyes narrowing further, his face turning red. 

"I thought it was the perfect time for us to celebrate our love. She was on the couch, and I kissed her - I started to take off her clothes." 

//Oh, Lord, no... not yet... not NOW...// 

"Her skin was so beautiful, so clean... I wanted to have every inch of her for myself. She was MINE." 

//"I was going to wait until tonight... but I can't... you're so beautiful..."// 

Thatcher's eyes widened with anger, and he scooted forward in his chair, every muscle in his body tensed with rage. "She didn't want me! She was crying the whole time! I knew then that she'd lied to me, that she didn't love me... that there was still someone else." 

//"There's another man. That's the problem. Someone else stands in the way of your heart belonging to me. I should've known." 

No - Danny -// 

"What did you do?" Taggart's voice was cool, emotionless. 

Thatcher's gaze hardened. "I knew what I had to do." 

//"Don't lie to me, ever again! You prefer him, do you? Well, I don't intend to give you up. You're mine now! He's nothing - except a threat."// 

"It was that reporter I'd seen her with. She still loved him." 

Toby's jaw tightened imperceptibly at that comment. 

"I took my gun and left." 

"Did you shoot Danny Concannon?" 

Thatcher looked up at his lawyer. "Of course I did! He was the only thing keeping me from *taking* Claudia, from *having* her. She still loved him, and as long as he was alive, she wouldn't be able to give herself to me." 

"So, you shot him. Did you think you'd killed him?" 

"He was lying on the pavement with blood all over him. I thought he was dead, so I left him there." 

CJ closed her eyes against the image, anguished. 

/Danny - I'm sorry for hurting you.../ 

"What did you do next?" 

"I went back to the cabin. I could hardly wait to get there - the whole way back, I grew more and more excited. I knew that Claudia was MINE now, truly. There was going to be nothing stopping me from taking her." 

"What about her previous rejection?" 

"At that point, I didn't care anymore. I wanted her. She thought she could say no to me, but she was wrong." 

/BASTARD./ 

"I went back to the cabin, and I went in - and she attacked me." 

"How did she attack you?" 

Thatcher's face got redder. "She hit me with a chair! I thought she was still angry over the reporter, and I was dazed. I lashed out. I hit her and knocked her unconscious." 

CJ flashed back again, violently this time - 

//His fist swept up with no warning and sliced across her temple. She went sprawling backwards from the force of the blow; her head banged against hardwood -// 

She couldn't make it stop. She was in the cabin, and Paul was coming after her with fire in his eyes. 

"I tried to make it up to her. I told her I was sorry. But she yelled at me!" 

//"There's no way in hell that I will ever love you. I LOATHE you!"// 

Toby watched as CJ's eyes closed, noted her sharp intake of breath. 

/NO NO - Not again, please.../ 

"She told me she'd never wanted me. She yelled at me!" Thatcher's gaze fell on CJ again from across the courtroom, his eyes like burning coals. "She was rejecting me, like I was afraid she would. So I decided to show her that she was *mine*, that she belonged to *me*." 

//She had no hope of resisting as his mouth descended on hers, hard - taking brutal possession of his prize. Her blood boiled and screamed...// 

Taggart interrupted. "Were you angry with her?" 

Thatcher's face contorted with anger even further. "Yes. How DARE she!" 

"What did you do to her?" 

"I was done playing, done pretending that what she wanted mattered at all. I hit her hard, with my fist. Her head snapped back - I was GLAD! I WANTED her to hurt -" 

Beside Toby, CJ's head jerked noticeably. He stared at her, worried... but she never felt his eyes on her. She was lost in a world of memory, drowning in pain - 

//Fireworks burst across her vision and thunder bellowed against the inside of her already-abused skull. Somehow, she bit back a cry. She could hear his harsh breathing, so very close... // 

"I wanted to kill her. I put my hands around her throat. She wasn't worthy of me; she deserved to die!" 

//His huge hands clamped onto her throat in an attempt to stifle her words. She could get no air into her lungs at all.// 

CJ's mind swam. /This isn't happening again - NO -/ 

Thatcher raised his fists and beat on the rail surrounding the witness stand. His breath came loudly. "I forced her down. I was going to show her what REAL pain felt like -" 

//She felt his fists seize her sweater in two places and wrench apart. The fabric ripped away with appalling ease, a frightful indication of his insane strength...// 

"I tore her sweater off. She was helpless on the floor." Here, sickeningly, Thatcher began to smile, a crazed grin that managed to only further darken the atmosphere. "She was hurt - and I could take my time with her. I could do whatever I wanted with her, and she knew it. She was afraid of me." 

/Nnno- No - PLEASE -/ 

"Her skin was uncovered, and I wanted to tear it, to rip it apart like I'd done to her clothes. I wanted to hear her *scream* as I pounded into her, slashing her apart inside like a knife -" 

/God, where are You?/ 

CJ trembled and shook in her seat, her breath quickening. Flashes of pain came at her, her memory betraying her evilly - 

//No, I don't want to cry. This will not help. I can't make any noise... // 

//I'm so scared...// 

Her consciousness screamed, her mind whirled. She was trapped - 

//HELP me - FIND ME -// 

"She reached up and scratched me then, with her fingernails - the BITCH!" 

//He let out a roar of pain, amazement and hellish wrath. That she would have the *gall* to hurt him! Oh, yes, there would be no mercy now... // 

Thatcher's face was like fire, his features twisted and ugly. "That was it. It was all her fault - if she had only given me what I wanted - but she was stupid. She was so STUPID! She could have had anything she wanted... but she struck back!" 

//She'd won that small victory, at least: his surging hormones were now swept away by the lust for vengeance. She watched the blood well up, watched the muscles under his shirt bulge in preparation, watched his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, exactly like a maddened bull... // 

"I wanted her broken -" 

//She lay there, gasping and pained, and just waited...// 

"I wanted her BLOOD!" 

CJ flinched in her seat and hunched, her eyes squeezed tightly shut - 

//With a snarl that would do justice to a lion, he drew back both ham-sized fists -// 

/NO!/ 

Her world spun, she couldn't hold on - she couldn't stop - 

She was in so much pain! 

"Let it be done, let it be done, let it be done..." she whispered desperately. "Please, God, let it be done..." 

His voice pounded through her skull, roaring, never-ending - 

"I wanted her DEAD!" 

His fists pounded her everywhere - she could feel his hot breath rushing through her hair as he leaned in for the kill, and she screamed, she *screamed*, she SCREAMED - 

CJ fainted. 

Toby managed to catch her before she fell completely over; as it was, it appeared to the people seated around them that she had simply leaned her head against his shoulder. He put his arms around her, terrified, and simply held on to her, rubbing her shoulder frantically. 

The mood in the courtroom shifted abruptly; on the witness stand, Paul Thatcher had quieted and leaned back into his chair, a different person again. Taggart regarded him solemnly. 

"Did you kill her?" 

Thatcher shrugged calmly. "I didn't have time. Some men with guns came in, and they pushed me down. I couldn't see her anymore." He looked down, sad. "They took her away from me." 

Taggart stood still for a moment. Silence pervaded the courtroom, so think and hateful Toby nearly choked on it. 

"No further questions, Your Honor," Taggart said quietly, and slowly walked back over to his table. The staccato gunshots of his heels on the marble floor ricocheted off the walls. Toby flinched. 

He eyes traveled down at CJ's still, white face, utterly sorrowful, then back up to Paul Thatcher. Thatcher was watching him, staring at his arm around CJ murderously, as if his very glare could cease the offending touch. His eyes were the only animated part of his face; the rest of his features were slack. 

/The very Devil himself./ 

Toby's eyes narrowed. /I will kill this man,/ his mind churned, /if it takes me the rest of my life. I will kill him for what he's done to her./ 

\--- 

"I don't know how much more of this she can take." 

/Or I, for that matter./ 

Toby sat with Leo and the President in the Oval Office that night. He'd driven CJ and Agent Reilly back to the Press Secretary's apartment building, then gone over to the White House to check in with his two superiors, as per their continuing request. 

He'd just spent the last half-hour recounting Paul's testimony. All three men were thoroughly disgusted, and their worry for CJ had spiked considerably. 

"How did she handle it today?" 

Toby rubbed his brow, distraught. "She fainted." 

"What?" 

"Dead away. Just fell right over. I caught her and held her up, next to me." 

Leo and the President both sat back, their faces distressed. "Why do you think..." Leo trailed off. 

"Thatcher's testimony - well, I described it. It was hard to listen to, especially for someone who actually went through what he was recounting. I'm afraid..." 

"What?" 

"I'm afraid that she might be having flashbacks. She hasn't told me anything of the sort, but when Thatcher was on the stand today, she was... really very distraught. Her eyes were closed, and she was hunched over in the seat, like she was trying not to remember the events Thatcher was describing." 

Bartlet let his breath out and put his hand to his chin, thinking. "Maybe she's not just remembering it - maybe she's *re-living* it." 

"We have *no idea* what she went through. How can we help her?" 

Bartlet shrugged. "Now *that* I don't know." 

"Do you think it would be better for her if she stayed out of the courtroom for a few days?" Leo asked. 

Toby sighed. "I don't think she'd do that if anyone asked her." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "She had some trouble on the first day - more than I told you about." 

"I thought we were going to be completely candid with each other on this," Bartlet said, frowning. 

"I know, sir - and I know that's what you wanted, but she's so afraid of us." 

"Afraid - of *us*?" The mere notion was incredible to both the President and Leo. 

"I mean, we knew that she was nervous around men - that's why we've been keeping our distance," Leo said. 

"No, I don't mean afraid physically - she's scared that we're going to find her weak. That we're going to think she can't handle what's happening. I think, also, that her job plays into this somewhat... she might be worried that if she shows *any* kind of vulnerability, she'll be made to... I don't know. Leave. Take a break." Toby sighed again. "I think that right now, her job is the only thing that's normal - and if she loses it, she'll have lost the last thing holding her to her life." 

The three men sat in silence, pondering the Communications Director's words. 

Bartlet broke through their thoughts with a strong assertion. "I'll never take her work away from her. I know how much it means to her, how much she feels her job defines her - there's no way I can separate her from it, even temporarily." 

Leo cleared his throat. "Sir... I think it may come to a point where you'll have to." 

The President and Toby both turned to the Chief of Staff in unison, identical expressions of bewilderment on their faces. 

"Leo, what on earth?" the President demanded. "I thought the first priority here was to save her, to help her; not to make her life even more unbearable." 

"Exactly my point. Your first priority is to the office of President. As callous as it may sound, the country - and the world - cannot stop functioning because of a single woman." 

Bartlet nodded; he knew, as much as he'd hate to admit it, that his closest advisor was speaking the truth. 

"I know. I know you're right. I feel -" 

He stopped halfway into his sentence, frowning. 

"No, that's just it: the truth is, Presidents can't have feelings. They may want to throw away everything to save someone they care about more than their position, even more than their life - but they can't." He shook his head, defeated. "This office is bigger than any one person, and a President's emotions and desires can't get in the way of his obligation to a higher purpose." 

The door to the Oval Office opened suddenly and Ron Butterfield stepped through. His face, trained by years in the Secret Service, showed no emotion; however, his taut frame and clenched fists betrayed his nervousness. 

The atmosphere in the room changed abruptly as the same fleeting thought rushed through the consciousnesses of the President and his two staffers. 

/Something's happened./ 

"Ron." Bartlet's voice was like ice. "What is it?" 

"In compliance with Standard Operating Procedure, Agent Reilly was supposed to radio when she had CJ's apartment secure and locked down for the night. She's done it without fail for a week now." 

"And?" 

Butterfield's face darkened noticeably, his features grim. "Her radio check-in is now -" he checked his watch - "forty-five minutes late." 

All three men stood. The radio signal could be missing for a number of reasons - but the events of the last month had caused them to be wary of *anything* abnormal. 

Bartlet put his hands on his hips and addressed his Agent in Charge. "Ron, I want you to send a team of agents over to her apartment - to make sure everything's all right. Please call the moment you know anything." 

Butterfield nodded and turned to exit. 

"Wait, Ron -" 

The Secret Service agent faced his President again. Bartlet hesitated, not sure if he was blowing the situation out of proportion. 

/No. This is CJ, and no precaution is too great./ 

"I want you to get me the location of Paul Thatcher at this time." 

/Please, God, *please* let me be overreacting./ 

\--- 

Ron Butterfield had hightailed it over to CJ's apartment at the President's behest; he'd taken a unit of agents with him, and as they pulled up outside of the Press Secretary's building, nothing looked out of the ordinary. 

/That's the way it always seems,/ Ron thought. /And then you go inside, and there's a body waiting for you./ 

He tried to shake off the feeling of foreboding that clung to him. /We could be worrying over absolutely nothing,/ he reminded himself. 

No. There was no way Reilly would not have radioed in. Something had definitely happened. 

/I don't want to be the one to tell the President that CJ's dead./ 

A selfish thought, but a true one nonetheless; the men in the White House loved CJ more than their own lives, and her death could destroy them. 

Ron noted CJ's car as he and his army of agents trooped up to the front door. They buzzed the super, who let them inside immediately; one interferes with the United States Secret Service at one's own peril. 

At the door to CJ's apartment, Ron braced himself for the worst. 

/Dear God, what if they *are* dead.../ 

"Open it," he ordered. A junior agent immediately reached over and opened the door. 

Ron stepped inside and looked around. Everything *looked* all right; there wasn't anything out of the ordinary- 

/No!/ 

Agent Colleen Reilly lay in a heap on the floor, unmoving, a chair upturned next to her. Butterfield rushed over and knelt next to her. "Search the rest of the place," he yelled, to no one in particular. "And call an ambulance!" 

He felt for Reilly's pulse with one hand, sighing in relief when he found it beating strong and sure in her throat. "Agent Reilly?" he said softly. There was a large, nasty-looking bump on her head, and a thin line of blood trickled down her temple. He raised her head up into his lap and lightly patted her cheek. "Reilly? Can you hear me?" 

The young woman's eyes fluttered for a moment, then opened. She gasped and tried to sit up. 

"CJ!" she cried out, before the pain in her head forced her to lay back down again, her face contorted in distress. 

"Agent Reilly," Butterfield said. "Listen. Stay down. We've called an ambulance." The young woman in his arms seemed to relax a bit. "What happened?" 

"I - I don't -" Her eyes were drifting shut involuntarily, and Reilly strained to keep them open. She knew that something important had happened, through the pain in her skull... if she could only remember... 

"CJ - we were here, and she -" Reilly gasped. "She was in the kitchen... then she came at me, with a chair... she hit me -" 

Butterfield's jaw tensed. /*CJ* did this./ 

/Her very mind is deteriorating./ 

He looked back down at Reilly and noticed that her eyes were fully closed. The young woman was unmoving, pale in his arms. "Reilly!" he said frantically. No response - the agent was completely unconscious. 

EMTs suddenly surrounded him, and Butterfield stood up, letting them tend to the injured woman. An agent approached him apprehensively. 

"Sir." 

Butterfield ran a hand over his face and nodded. "She's not here?" 

"There's no sign of her, sir." 

/Wonderful,/ he thought sarcastically. /She's missing *again*. The President is going to be *so* pleased./ 

The tightly held control that was central to Butterfield's reputation was unable to handle this latest blow, and he burst explosively with unbridled rage. 

"DAMMIT!" he roared at the top of his lungs. "Why is it so *hard* to hold on to CJ Cregg? She's just one woman! We're the *United States Secret Service*, for God's sake!" 

The agent in front of him took a noticeable step back, not attempting at all to hide his fear and intimidation. 

Butterfield looked around the apartment, breathing hard, beside himself with frustration. 

"SHIT!" he screamed. 

Silence. Every agent in the room stood stock-still and watched, apprehensively. 

Ron raked a hand through his hair angrily. 

/This won't help anything. I've got to calm down./ 

He took a deep breath. 

"All right. I want all of you to stay here, in case CJ comes back. If she does, radio me *immediately*. Same goes if you come across any new information, *anything*, relating to her location." He turned, fuming, and stalked out the door. "I'm going back to the White House." 

\-- 

Since Ron Butterfield's hurried exit forty-five minutes ago, Leo had called Sam and Josh to the Oval Office. The five men sat together now, distraught. 

"So we have no idea what's happened, or if anything has even happened at all?" Josh said quietly. 

Bartlet shook his head. "No. All we know is that Agent Reilly never radioed in that CJ was safe at home." 

"She could have forgotten," Sam said reasonably. The astonished looks of his four companions quieted him. 

"Sam, it's the Secret Service. They don't forget." 

"Sorry." 

The phone rang suddenly, startling all five men with its shrill loudness. Leo moved with rocket-like speed and tore it out of its cradle. 

"Yes?" All eyes concentrated on his features, and four hearts jumped as Leo's face conveyed relief. 

"Yes. *Thank* you." He hung up the phone and turned to them, jubilant. 

"Paul Thatcher is safely in his cell." He watched in delight as the room's occupants let out the collective breath they had been holding. 

/Well, that lowers the possibility of CJ being in trouble *considerably*,/ Bartlet thought, his worries easing somewhat. 

"At least we know that *that* scenario isn't a reality," Josh said. "And any other situation would be a piece of cake for an armed Secret Service agent to handle, right?" 

"Guns and radios aren't going to help the Secret Service much if the person they're trying to protect is hell-bent on getting away from them," Butterfield said quietly as he entered the room once again. 

The five men turned and looked at him, confused. 

"What on earth do you mean, Ron?" Bartlet's inquiry contained nothing but bafflement. 

"I just came from CJ's apartment. We found Agent Reilly there, lying on the floor, unconscious." 

/No. Oh, God -/ 

"WHERE'S CJ?" 

Butterfield couldn't tell which man had asked the question; he'd be willing to bet that all of them had. 

"We don't know," he said simply. And waited for the bomb to explode. 

Jed Bartlet's face took on a hue resembling that of a tomato; his hands balled into fists at his sides. 

"You don't *know*?" he whispered, much too quietly for safety's sake. 

"What did you mean, when you said that CJ wanted to get away from her protection?" Josh spoke up, moving across the room to stand between Bartlet and Butterfield, lest the former launch himself at the latter. Despite his and his friends' anger, they needed the Secret Service on their side. 

Ron sighed and shook his head. "I was able to revive Agent Reilly briefly. She wasn't very coherent, but she was able to tell me that... CJ was the one who attacked her." 

/WHAT?/ 

"How is that possible?" Leo demanded, his voice raised. "How - and *why* - would CJ do such a thing?" 

"Apparently, she hit Agent Reilly over the head with a chair. That was all Reilly could tell us, before she *passed out again*," Ron said, his anger building. Press Secretary or not, CJ had attacked one of his best agents, a woman he was fond of, and hurt her badly. 

Everyone caught the undertone of blame in Butterfield's words, and Sam responded guiltily. "How is Agent Reilly, anyway?" 

"She was taken to GW. We won't know more about her condition for a while." Butterfield changed the subject. "I'm going to get back over to CJ's apartment, to question some of her neighbors. Someone must have seen *something*." 

For the first time in his career, Butterfield exited without waiting for the President's dismissal. 

The five men remaining in the Oval Office stood shocked to the core. 

Josh broke the silence, his voice full of sorrow. "So... she's missing. *Again*." 

Sam sighed. "And this time, we have no idea where she's gone." 

Leo turned and faced his three staffers. "We have a new situation. It's eight-thirty at night, CJ is missing in the city... and a freezing rain is beginning to fall." He rubbed his eyes, then looked at the men wearily. "What do we do?" 

"Well," Toby said, speaking for the first time, "before we do anything, we need to realize something. CJ is suffering from extreme emotional disturbance right now. We have to come to terms with the fact that - " 

His fears over the last few days had been horribly confirmed. CJ was spiraling downwards into herself, and the demons of her memory might finally have taken control. Toby took a deep breath. 

"That the CJ we know may not be the same person we're going to find." 

\--- 

In the Shape of Life and Love 

\--- 

A figure appeared out of the darkness and rain, heading toward the northwest gate of the White House. The person had almost reached the gate when they stumbled slightly on the wet pavement and fell to the ground. 

The agent stationed at the east gate spoke quickly into his cuff mike, listened to the response for a moment, then left the shelter of the guard booth and ran out into the rain. Ron Butterfield, who had been in the southeast guard booth when he got the call from the agent, joined him and they rushed to the gate. 

"What did you see?" Butterfield asked the younger man as they walked. 

"A person walked through the rain," he said, pointing through the gate. "They collapsed over there. I don't know who it is." The junior agent noticed Butterfield move more quickly. 

"What's going on, sir?" 

"I'm not exactly sure," Butterfield said truthfully. 

They reached the closed gate. "Open it!" Ron yelled impatiently to the operator, who complied quickly. The gate beeped, Ron pushed it open, and the two men dashed through it towards the soaked figure slumped on the flooded ground. Whoever it was sat up shakily as they neared. 

"Identify yourself," Ron ordered. This elicited no response, and his voice increased in volume. "Identify yourself!" The person raised their head. 

Ron stopped suddenly, his breath yanked out of his chest, as CJ's dark, frightened eyes stared back at him. 

\--- 

/Not again. Oh, God, not again./ 

"How could this happen?" Bartlet said, seething. Leo shook his head, unable to respond. 

It had been four hours since CJ had gone missing. In that time, no one had left the Oval Office, for fear of missing an update; as they sat in silence, the tension and anxiety in the room had risen to an unbearable level. 

Toby sat with his head in his hands, staring at his shoes. 

/Why didn't I see this coming?/ he thought desperately. /How could I not notice how far gone she was?/ 

/No./ 

/I *did* notice, but I didn't say anything. Because *I* wanted to be the one to help her./ 

He sighed, the guilt eating away at him. /You're one sad, selfish son of a bitch, Toby Ziegler./ 

They waited. 

Leo watched the clock tick away the seconds. 

/I feel like the entire last two weeks has been spent in this room, waiting for her,/ he thought. /Will this ever end? Will she *ever* be safe again?/ 

Bartlet stared at the phone, willing it ring. 

/*Any* news would help now. At least we'd know -/ 

/What if she's dead? What if some maniac found her wandering alone and.../ 

He clenched his jaw. Another thought occurred to him, making him dizzy with fright. 

/What if she killed herself? If she felt that she had no way out.../ 

/NO!/ 

The President exploded suddenly. "God DAMMIT!" he roared, picking up a glass off the desk and hurling it at the wall. Josh and Sam shot out of their seats, and Toby jumped, startled. The glass shattered loudly, glittering pieces flying off in all directions, a large dent left in the otherwise pristine white surface. 

The room was silent, except for the still-tumbling glass shards and Jed Bartlet's frighteningly loud breathing. 

Josh, Sam, Toby, and Leo stared at Bartlet in shock. Outward displays of anger, violent ones, were wholly uncharacteristic of their leader. 

/This has got to end,/ Toby thought. /She's got to be okay, or it will destroy all of us./ 

Leo put a hand on Bartlet's shaking arm, trying to calm him. "Sir -" 

However, Bartlet wouldn't be settled. He threw off Leo's hand and walked around the desk to stand behind it. "I want to know how she disappeared while under the protection of an armed Secret Service agent," he seethed. "How could Reilly just let her go?" 

"With all due respect, sir, I think you're placing the blame on *entirely* the wrong person here," Leo said sharply, facing his friend in full. 

The President looked at him, startled, then narrowed his brows. "What the hell did you just say?" 

"Why are we all acting like this is the fault of the Secret Service? *We* are the ones that failed her!" 

Bartlet's face twitched noticeably, as if Leo had slapped him. 

"I don't know what you mean," he said coldly. 

Leo stared back at him, incredulous. /Does he really not see it?/ 

"We failed her the moment we convinced ourselves that she was fine. She was *dying* inside, and we were too absorbed with getting past her *first* trauma that we didn't even notice we were pushing her into a *second* one!" 

"We didn't push her into anything. Any and all fault lies with the monster who stole her from us in the first place!" 

"God dammit, Jed!" 

The entire room sucked in a collective breath. 

No one, *no one*, ever raised their voice to the President of the United States. And certainly not while using his first name. The only person who could get away with such an extreme error in judgment was the First Lady herself. 

Leo, however, didn't seem to care. He continued, his voice like steel. 

"Wasn't it you who called the courthouse - who spoke to a federal judge - and cleared his docket? Wasn't it *you* who accelerated Paul Thatcher's trial?" 

The other three men in the room all gasped; their jaws dropped at this latest revelation. 

Bartlet paled, then quieted his voice so that it matched the deadliness of his Chief of Staff's. 

"I did that to get it out of the way. I did it for *her*." 

"Well, you sure as hell did a great job. It was the *trial* that pushed her to the edge, and YOU DIDN'T DO IT FOR HER!" 

Bartlet's eyes dropped to the floor, the chink in his armor beginning to widen. 

"Admit it. You did it for yourself - for us. Not for her. Dammit, nothing we've done has been for her!" Leo cried, his arms in the air. "*We* are the ones who can't get past this, not her! If we had just seen past our own fear and anger, she would be well on the road to healing! But we -" 

He stopped, then whispered, his voice cracking. 

"*We ruined her*." 

Josh and Sam looked at each other, horrified, in mutual realization; Toby simply covered his face with his hands, shattered by what their blindness had caused. 

The truth hit Jed Bartlet so hard that he actually stumbled backwards, leaning heavily on the desk. 

/All the bodyguards, the endless measures taken for her protection - they meant nothing./ 

/I failed her again./ 

"Leo..." he whispered brokenly. 

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sudden flurry of activity from the four agents in the room. 

"What's happening?" one of them said loudly. 

Bartlet and the staff looked at each other in confusion. "What is it -" Leo started, but was interrupted again. 

"Are you sure?" the agent said. He listened for a moment, then spoke quickly into the mike. "I copy. We're in the Oval. Do you have her?" 

The President and his staff stopped all movement, hardly daring to interpret what the agent had just said. 

The young man nodded to no one in particular and spoke again. "Is she alive?" 

No one breathed. 

The agent grinned widely for a moment, then, as if remembering his professionalism, became stone-faced again. "We'll get one in here shortly. I'll report." He turned to the expectant faces across the room from him. 

"What's going on?" Bartlet demanded shortly. 

The agent stood still for a moment, then grinned again, even wider than before. "The Press Secretary is secure. Ron Butterfield's bringing her in now." 

\-- 

"CJ! CJ, can you hear me?" Ron yelled over the noises of traffic and the rain pouring down around them. 

CJ shook with a spasm of cold, then nodded. "Ron?" she said weakly. 

Relief spread through Butterfield, and he motioned to the agent behind him. "Get on the radio and alert Bateman. Tell him we're bringing her to the Oval. And tell him to get a doctor!" he ordered. The younger man immediately began speaking into his cuff mike. 

Ron turned back to CJ. She was now shaking violently with chill. "CJ, are you hurt?" he said gently. 

"No," she said through chattering teeth. 

"Can you stand up?" 

She nodded hesitantly. Ron grasped her shoulders, pulling her up from the ground and looping an arm around her waist. 

"I'm sorry for this," she whispered, barely audible. 

"You gave us all quite a scare, CJ," Butterfield told her. "Quite a scare." 

"Agent Reilly -" 

"It's all right," Butterfield soothed. "I'm taking you to the Oval Office. We can get you checked out there." 

He looked up suddenly as a flood of agents surrounded him. "Help me with her," he said, and one of them wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her up. The group moved as a unit back towards the White House, CJ hidden between several men. 

\-- 

"Get my wife in here. Now," Bartlet ordered, moving around the desk. Toby, Sam, and Josh stood openmouthed, staring at each other. 

"She's okay," Toby said, overwhelmed. Sam grinned and patted his arm. 

Suddenly the doors of the Oval Office swung open wide and Ron Butterfield and several agents strode through quickly, with a very ragged-looking CJ nestled protectively between them. 

Leo had never seen Jed Bartlet move so fast. 

CJ let out a small cry of relief as the President grabbed her and held her tightly. "Thank you, God," he said quietly, his face upturned. He didn't release her, and he noticed that she didn't shrink away; rather, she clung to him, trembling, as if she was afraid to let go. 

/Can it be - is she finally opening up to us?/ 

He moved her towards the couch and sat her down, letting go and kneeling front of her, while Sam, Toby, and Leo crowded around the soaked, shivering woman on the couch. 

CJ's lips were blue with cold, and her hair hung, darkened and curly with rainwater, around her cheeks. Bartlet grasped her shoulders and looked into her eyes, which stared back at him, large and haunted. 

"CJ, are you hurt?" he asked. She shook her head resolutely, but he could feel her body shaking under his touch. "Get her a blanket," he said loudly. One young agent, who until now had been standing silently in a corner, jumped into action. 

"CJ..." The President looked at her questioningly. 

His Press Secretary's eyes shifted away, and she dropped her head. "I - I'm so sorry for this." She rubbed her eyes and said sorrowfully, "Is Agent Reilly all right?" 

The President nodded slowly. "You clocked her a good one, but she's fine; just a nasty bump and a possible concussion. From what I hear, the doctors at the hospital are having a hard time keeping her there. She's chomping at the bit to get back to you." He noted CJ's apparent relief, and continued softly. "Will you tell us what happened?" 

CJ sighed, close to tears. "I went home, and I couldn't stop remembering him, in the courtroom, in the cabin... it wouldn't stop. I remember dropping something, in the kitchen." She shook her head. "I don't really know what happened." 

Bartlet noted the hysteria in her voice and smoothed her hair away from her face. "It's all right. Don't worry, everything's fine now." 

He regarded her as a father would a beloved child. "I'm just so glad you're okay." 

/Amen,/ Leo thought. 

The door that connected to Leo's office opened suddenly and Abbey Bartlet walked through. She spotted CJ and the others on the couch and hurried over, motioning for them to make room. 

"What in the world are you doing sitting up?" she said to CJ, pushing her down until her head rested on the arm of the sofa. 

"I'm really fine," CJ protested weakly. 

"Quiet. Look at yourself; you're just about as far away from fine as possible." She set her doctor's bag down on the floor next to her and sat on the edge of the couch. 

The secret service agent came up behind the couch with a gray blanket. Toby took it from her and draped it over CJ tenderly. 

"CJ, did you hurt yourself at all?" Abbey asked her, taking out a stethoscope and fitting it into her ears. 

CJ shook her head again, more firmly this time. "I'm fine. I'm just cold. I can sit up, really. Please..." 

Abbey pursed her lips for a second, then nodded her head and helped CJ sit up. "You're exhausted," she said matter-of-factly. "When was the last time you slept?" 

But CJ didn't answer. The world had begun to swim in front of her eyes, and blackness clouded her vision. She put a hand to her head weakly. "I think -" she started. 

"Whoa!" Abbey said, as CJ fell over in a dead faint. Josh, Toby, Sam, Leo, and Bartlet moved closer in distress, exclaiming loudly, but Abbey waved them away firmly. 

"The last thing this woman needs right now is to be crowded," she stated. "Does anyone know when the last time she ate was?" 

Toby's eyes widened. Their conversation, in the car - 

//You're not eating?// 

//Eating doesn't matter anymore.// 

"She told me this morning that she hasn't been eating," he said quietly. 

Abbey sighed. "Well, that'd do it." 

"She fainted from hunger?" Bartlet asked incredulously. 

"Well, hunger, combined with severe exhaustion and possible shock from the cold," Abbey explained, rising from her kneeling position. "Let's get her over to the Residence." 

Five men began talking at once. 

"The *Residence*?" 

"What do you mean? She's not going to the hospital?" 

"She fainted! She should see a doctor -" 

"In case you've all forgotten, I *am* a doctor," Abbey said forcefully. "And right now, a hospital would be the *worst* place we could take CJ. She needs to be surrounded by familiar people in a comfortable setting." 

If anyone had doubts, the look on the First Lady's face silenced them. 

"Now, Josh," she said, pointing to the unconscious woman on the couch, "would you do the honors?" 

Josh hesitated, as if about to argue again; then he thought better of it, stepped forward, and lifted CJ lightly in his arms. 

"You okay with her?" Toby said quietly. 

Josh held CJ easily. "Are you kidding me? For all her height, she weighs next to nothing." 

"Gotcha." 

Josh followed Abbey out of the Oval Office and down the colonnaded walkway connecting the West Wing to the White House. Toby watched them go, his heart heavy; the memory of CJ's still white face was etched permanently in his mind. 

/*We* did this to her,/ he thought. /Will she ever be the same?/ 

\-- 

The next morning, Toby stood outside the door to the Lincoln Bedroom, where CJ was resting once more. After taking a deep breath, he knocked quietly. 

"Come in." The voice from inside sounded hollow and unsure. 

/Oh, CJ,/ he thought, his guilt weighing heavily on his conscience. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was beautifully lit from the large windows on the far wall; sunlight streamed in and bathed the bed's occupant in golden rays. Toby walked carefully over to the bed and sat down in a chair beside it, watching his friend. 

/She looks all right,/ he thought. /In fact, she looks better than ever. One would never guess what she went through last night./ 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, mentally kicking himself for being so clichéd but unsure of what else he could say. 

She fidgeted in the bed, her hands twisting again and again. "Embarrassed." 

That was one word Toby hadn't expected and he nodded at her to continue. She sighed and looked out the large ornate windows to her left. 

"I thought she was Paul," she whispered simply. "I mean, I - I was back there, in the cabin with him. It had never been as bad as that before." 

"What do you mean?" 

She looked at him, then down at the bed. "I've been having flashbacks... to the cabin, to him. I can't make them stop. They're triggered by the smallest things - the sight of snow, the smell of wood." 

"And something triggered them this time." 

CJ nodded. "It was a flour jar." 

"I'll admit, that's not what I was expecting," Toby said, smiling softly. 

She looked down at her hands. "In the cabin... he got angry. He threw a ceramic flour jar at the wall." 

"I remember you saying that in your testimony." 

"It's one of the things I remember most vividly." She twisted her fingers together. "When I got home that night, I was in the kitchen, making coffee for Agent Reilly. I thought I was okay, after his testimony - I thought that I was finally getting over it." 

Toby waited while she sighed. 

"But I wasn't over it. I knocked the flour jar out of the cabinet. It broke on the floor... I could hear Agent Reilly calling me, but she sounded so far away... then I just snapped, I guess." 

Her face fell in shame. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I thought she was Paul. I really did." 

"It's okay." Toby didn't quite know what else to say. 

"I ran all over the city for hours. It was raining, and I was so cold - but I couldn't go back. I was just lost in myself." 

Toby shivered. As much as he hated to admit it, she'd had a serious mental breakdown. 

More than that, he'd had a hand in pushing her into it. 

"I finally stopped at the river, down by Ohio Drive." 

/Oh my God./ 

Toby immediately thought of a similar night a week ago, when he'd been told she was dead. He'd sat in that very same spot, staring at the icy waters, asking God how he could be so cruel. 

CJ couldn't look at him. "I stepped to the river, Toby. I - I thought about killing myself." 

He shuddered. /No, no, we just got her back - she came so close to dying last time, and then we almost killed her ourselves!/ 

He cleared his throat. "Why... why didn't you?" 

She looked at him thoughtfully. "I didn't do it because I knew that if I did, I'd be giving him exactly what he wanted. He wanted to possess me. If I died because of him, then I'd be giving in to him. Also..." 

She paused. 

"What?" Toby asked. 

"I thought of you, Toby, of all of you. I thought of how everyone must have felt when it came through that I was dead, after they found Anita Bellevue in that car. I couldn't make my friends go through that again." She took his hand and looked at him earnestly. "I couldn't do that to *you*." 

Toby averted his eyes from the raw emotion he saw revealed in her expressive face. 

"That you would do that for me... is... is..." He paused, his mouth open, grasping for a word that could adequately express his gratitude, yearning, compassion, and fear. Failing that, he switched gears. 

"I went down to the river myself last week. Did anyone tell you that?" 

She blinked in surprise. "During the blizzard? Were you insane?" 

He smiled slightly. "Yes, and... the jury's still out." He glanced away, unconsciously running the heel of his hand over his brow. "I needed to get away. My feelings... my agony... was too big for this House." 

With his eyes fixated on a random spot on the wall, his mind travelled back to that day. 

"So much had happened. Everyone was falling apart. No work was getting done; we were starting to lash out at each other. Or rather," he winced, "I was gearing up to lash out at Josh. And then... my rabbi came to see me." 

CJ listened intently, caught up in Toby's memories, forgetting for the moment her own turmoil. 

"The President had called him to come talk to me." Here Toby grinned. "I think that Jed Bartlet is smarter than anyone knows. He certainly figured ME out in a hurry." 

He smiled down on her, his eyes soft and his voice filled with friendship - and something else, something she couldn't identify, but that made her insides glow with a special warmth. 

CJ was startled. /What's happening right now between us?/ she thought wondrously. 

"He knew that losing you would be the most catastrophic thing that could happen to me." 

Her eyes filling with tears, CJ reached out again and lay her hand tenderly on his arm. "Oh, Toby... " 

"Wait," he interrupted her, "before you get the idea that I might be noble, let me set the record straight." 

She nodded, but didn't remove her hand. 

"One of the things the rabbi made me realize was that I was... jealous. Insanely jealous and horrified at my capacity to be so." He fixed her with a steady look. "I was jealous of Danny. I was envious of the fact that somehow that deranged son of a bitch thought you might love him... instead of me." 

A soft laughter escaped the man, surprising even him. 

"Can you imagine that? I was jealous of a bullet aimed at him because he might be your boyfriend, while I was just some guy you worked with who occasionally treated you like dirt. In fact, if Thatcher knew even half of the shit I've put you through around here, he might've shot me for being so mean to you." 

CJ rubbed his arm with her hand. "I wouldn't trade a day of it," she said sincerely. 

For a moment, they just looked at each other, both communicating through their expressions what could not be communicated with words. 

Toby moved closer. For the first time in a long time, CJ wasn't startled or frightened; rather, she was entranced. 

"I'd give everything I have to keep you safe," Toby whispered. 

He watched as CJ's eyes locked on his; his fingers brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His eyes told her everything. 

/I would die for you./ 

Slowly, slowly, he leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. She closed her eyes, far from being shocked or afraid; their closeness felt *right*, felt more comfortable than CJ had been in a long, long time. 

He backed away, and she was immediately sorry. He sighed. 

"I shouldn't have done that," he said. "I apologize." 

"Please don't." Her voice was strong, and he breathed more surely, relieved. 

They sat and shared a meaningful silence, connected by the new dynamic between them. A part of CJ that had been heavy and dark since her abduction suddenly felt lighter that ever; not healed, but a small step towards it. 

/I'm home./ 

\-- 

Two days later, they were in the courtroom once more; CJ looked around, numb. 

/God, I hope I never have to come here again. Ever./ 

Paul Thatcher sat calmly at the defense table, completely docile. He seemed to know what everyone knew: that there was no way any jury was going to find him sane - and guilty. 

As if reading her thoughts, Toby leaned over to CJ. "I hope you're not expecting a guilty finding," he whispered in her ear. "It's obvious that they proved he's insane." 

"Of course," she replied quietly. She then looked at him and spoke again, an edge to her voice. "Haven't I been telling you that for days?" 

He backed off, leaning away. CJ faced the front again and sighed. 

It was pure luck that she was sitting there at all. After her close call, it had been hard to convince the President that she was able to be present at any more of the trial; her powers of persuasion had won out, however, along with some serious help from Abbey Bartlet. The President had insisted upon her friends accompanying her, however, since Agent Reilly was still in the hospital - and so Toby sat by her side. Waiting just outside the courtroom doors were Sam and Josh. 

"We don't want to crowd you," they'd said as they hung back from the entrance. "But we'll be right here when you come out." 

/Wonderful,/ CJ thought. /I don't want anyone right now - but how can I tell them that?/ 

\-- 

Outside, Sam and Josh waited nervously. 

"You know, I'm almost glad we didn't go in there," Josh said. 

"Why?" 

He looked at Sam, then down at his feet. "I don't think I could look at that man and be able to control myself." 

Sam nodded; the feeling was mutual. "It's amazing how the world can produce such monsters... such embodiments of evil." 

Josh sighed, and they stood in thoughtful silence. 

\-- 

Five minutes later, the judge was settled into his seat. He asked the defendant to rise; Thatcher dutifully stood, along with Taggart. 

"Madame Foreperson, have you reached a verdict?" 

"We have, Your Honor." 

Toby took CJ's hand; she didn't flinch away. 

"In the matter of the People versus Paul Thatcher, on the charge of Murder in the First Degree, we find the defendant, Paul Thatcher, not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect. On the charge of Kidnapping, we find the defendant not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect." 

/Not guilty./ 

/He's guilty of *something*, though, isn't he?/ 

"The defendant is hereby remanded to the custody of mental help workers, to be held at a mental hospital until the unspecified time of his release. Court is adjourned." 

Toby turned to CJ. "You okay?" 

She nodded. "I think so." 

\-- 

Outside, Sam and Josh heard the loud banging of a gavel; they both stiffened. 

"I guess it's over," Sam said. 

"Sam?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you remember what you said to me, when she was missing?" 

Sam turned to him. "I said a lot of things." 

"Yes, but..." Josh looked at him and smiled. "That one thing... it really stuck with me. And it's true." 

"What?" 

"We'll love her no matter what happens." 

\-- 

CJ stood and started to walk away, not waiting for Toby, who had bent down to retrieve his briefcase from the floor. She moved with the crowd, uncaring of where the flow was taking her; only sure that she had to get out of the courtroom. 

She found herself standing suddenly at the defense table. Paul Thatcher was directly in front of her, his hands being cuffed behind his back. 

"Claudia," he said softly, his eyes shining. 

Strangely, CJ found herself unable to react. It was as if her body had turned itself off. 

"I wasn't insane, Claudia... I did it all for you, so that you would love me." 

/He *is* insane. He is. The judge said he was. But he's torn me apart. He's made me not want to live... he's guilty of *something*!/ 

"I'm coming back for you, Claudia. I promise. It won't be long. I'll come back for you." 

/Why can't I feel anything?/ 

It came to her quickly, startlingly obvious. 

/Because that's what he took from me. *That's* what he's guilty of./ 

She took a deep breath and looked at him, unafraid. 

"No, you won't," she said firmly. 

Thatcher was pulled away from her, led roughly by the bailiff. The monster looked back once before disappearing through the back door of the courtroom. 

\-- 

Toby walked out the doors to find Josh and Sam waiting eagerly for him. 

"Well?" Josh asked. 

Toby rubbed his head. "Just as we expected. Not guilty." 

Sam and Josh both seemed to deflate. "Well, at least he's not back on the streets, right?" Sam said, always the optimist. 

Toby shrugged. "Where's CJ?" 

"Wasn't she in there with you?" 

Toby looked around. "No, I - we got separated." 

The two men in front of him looked at each other in horror. 

"Not again!" Josh said loudly, before Toby and Sam glared at him. "I'm just saying. Why is it so hard for us to hang on to her for more than a few hours?" 

Toby glanced around once more, then started backing away. "It's okay. This time is different." 

"Why?" 

He looked back and smiled slightly. "Because this time, I know where she is." 

\-- 

** Final notes: Well, this is the end of it. Once again, huge thanks go to Sheila and Kate - you guys are just the most wonderful people I know. Love you both. Also, thanks SO MUCH to each and every person who sent me feedback. I saved every note I got in a text file, and I take it out every once in a while to giggle and blush over it. :) 

The past few days have been very, very hard for me, and the constant support of the readers is just so incredibly appreciated. I'd love to know what you think about this last part; feedback is the most lovely thing in the world. It's the other reason we write. 

\-- 

In the Shape of Love and Life 

\-- 

CJ sat alone on the steps of her apartment. Exhaustion numbed her bones, but she couldn't bring herself to get up, to go inside. 

/I don't care about anything,/ she thought. /I just want this to end./ 

There was still snow on the ground. CJ couldn't remember what grass looked like. 

/If I could just get past it, make myself feel what I want to feel, and not be afraid anymore! But -/ 

She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to feel safe again. Her trust had been stolen from her the day she'd woken up in an isolated cabin, alone with a monster. 

The rumbling thunderclouds overhead masked the footsteps of a man. He walked down the sidewalk towards her stoop, and she looked up just as he stopped in front of her. 

"I couldn't find you after the verdict was read." 

"I know." 

Toby didn't respond, simply regarded her. She let him look. 

/After this - after this - how can I be the same? I want him to see me like this. I want him to know that I'm wrecked./ 

The two stayed that way for a few minutes, not speaking. The cold wind rustled through the trees, and not even the sound of a dog barking or a car starting distracted them from their silent communication. 

/I know that you want something. You won't tell me, because you're afraid of hurting me./ 

/That's laughable. I don't think you can be in any more pain than you're in right now./ 

/Tell me. I need to know what this is./ 

/What what is?/ 

/This. Between us. I need you to tell me what you want from me./ 

He sat down next to her on the stoop, carefully, not touching her. Somehow this one action confirmed everything she'd suspected. 

He wanted more. 

/I do, too! But I'm afraid.../ 

The winter wind chilled her as it rushed past her cheeks, and she realized that a decision had to be made. 

/I cannot let this dominate my life./ The man sitting next to her shifted, facing her, and for a moment CJ wondered blindly if he had heard her mantra, if she had unconsciously spoken the words out loud. 

She knew he wouldn't leave her unless she asked him to. It was up to her. 

/But I can't let him in,/ she thought helplessly. /This thing has changed me. I can't let anyone in, for fear of the pain!/ 

She didn't want to lose him. That much she was sure of. He was the last thing holding her to the world, to her life, her life as it had been before the monster destroyed it. 

She had to make a choice - she had to either let him in, and face the fear thrashing wildly inside of her, or lose him forever. 

/Is this what it comes down to?/ she wondered. /Is this the end?/ 

He faced her still, his eyes patient, understanding. She stared back. Something twitched inside her, but it was far from pain, and she said his name to herself softly, so she wouldn't forget. So she could decide. His eyes searched hers, willing her to understand him. 

/I love you./ 

Paul had loved her too. The snowy mountains loomed suddenly in front of her, never-ending - she was climbing, she couldn't reach the top - 

/I'll *never* reach the top!/ She was going to fall. 

/Is it over? Is this the end?/ 

Something reached out and touched her, winding around her, pulling her to safety. This wasn't Paul. 

/He was never Paul./ 

His eyes refused to look away, and in that moment, his soul spoke to hers, the dawning of lucidity. 

/I love him, too./ 

In her mind's eye, he held her as she began to walk away from the monster, the mountains shrinking smaller and smaller, until there was nothing left but the two of them and the sun shining on their footprints in the melting snow. 

/This isn't the end. This is the beginning, because I love him, too./ 

"Stay with me," she whispered. 

He looked at her still, his eyes soft now. No words were needed. 

As his hand slipped into hers, CJ heard music, a classical piece, coming from somewhere far away. Two violins sweetly wound their different melodies together to form a glorious unity of sound. 

She smiled.


End file.
